#also I drew feathers in his hair for an au thing

[wanologic]

That Fit Tho

[trashogram]

He Chose You (Pt.1)

Lucifer/Reader

Hazbin Hotel AU where Lilith never existed, Lucifer has been lonely for over a millennia and Charlie will be born one way or another. Rated E for explicit sexual content of the raunchiest variety in later chapters and also weird old people.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 13.5 | Part 14 | End

There was a knock at your door. It sounded like someone rapping their knuckles against the wood whimsically, as if following the beat of a song you couldn’t hear.

The methodical folding of your clothes into garage sale-quality drawers came to a halt. You looked over your shoulder, shifting on your feet hesitantly.

It had been little over a week since you moved into the grand old Donner apartment. Apart from a quick tow-in of shoddy furniture from your hired movers, no one had come calling. 

You definitely weren’t expecting anyone either, not in a brand new city you’d spontaneously decided to live in.

After another moment of uncertainty, you pivoted to the door and inched it open to a slit you could peek through. “Hello?”

Your brow furrowed as you stared at the empty space ahead of you. Pulling the door open fully, you peered down one end of the hallway to the other. 

Nothing but cracked and crumbling crown moldings on wainscoting, a matted-looking saxony carpet, the same musty, stale air…

‘Quack’

You nearly jumped out of your skin, head snapping down to see a real, live duck standing just outside your doorframe. 

“Oh!”

     You immediately squatted down to marvel at the animal. It gazed back up at you with beady red eyes and a curious gait. 

“Hey little guy,” You cooed, smiling despite the incongruous image of a waterfowl in your building.

You raised a hand and reached out slowly, instinctive desire to pet the cute little creature warring with a minuscule yet no less embarrassing fear. 

Were ducks typically friendly? You knew so little, ornithology not being your thing. 

“Will you let me pet you?” Your fingers hovered over the surprisingly patient animal before it decided to nudge itself under your palm.

The duck shivered with delight at your touch, all-white feathers ruffling excitedly and tail wagging, looking akin to a very happy dog. 

“Oh my god.” You gasped, heart melting. “You’re so cute!”

Soft feathers brushed against your bent knees as the duck drew close enough to rub its body against you. It had gone from doggish to cat-like effortlessly, and you couldn’t help giggling over how silly it looked.

“Where did you come from?” You asked after a bit of cuddling, glancing from side to side once again. The hallway remained empty, no one running to fetch what you assumed was a beloved pet. 

     ‘That’s… weird.’ You thought. ‘So, who knocked on my door?’ 

It was tempting to ask the bird that was currently bouncing on its webbed feet. You couldn’t help but snort with laughter before positioning yourself so that you were sitting. In an instant, the duck made to climb into your lap, allowing you to carefully lift it onto your legs when it couldn’t reach. 

“You’re so silly!” Grinning, you continued to stroke its head. “Your owner is probably worried sick about their silly little guy.” 

‘Quack’ 

The duck burrowed its head against your stomach as it settled on your lap, and you sighed. “I’d love to keep you, but I don’t know how to take care of you, sweetie.” 

Little red eyes bore into you from below, seemingly wide and beseeching. It was too precious, and too perfect (to the point where you idly wondered if someone was somehow scouting a way to scam you via adorable duck shenanigans).

Aside from the guttural, sad ‘wek’ you got in reply, a slow creak of hinges drew your attention back up. The door across from you had visibly opened the barest amount. You squinted, just able to make out frizzy red hair and a red-rimmed, down-turned mouth in the dim lighting. 

“Oh hey, hi!” You stopped yourself from standing, instead of bracing the bundle in your lap close. “Is this your duck?”

A tingle went up your spine as the door opened fully and an old woman appeared. She was dressed in green capri pants and a ruffled tan blouse, hair red as an open flame and barely kept in-check by a cheetah-print scarf. The makeup she wore was caked on, harsh red lipstick smeared around her thin lips and black kohl-rimmed eyes popping out of her wrinkled face. 

The sour, almost suspicious look on her face softened but did not completely go away, even when she smiled.

“Oh Lou!” She cried, making you jump. “You didn’t get very far, did you? I almost didn’t notice you were gone, you little scoundrel!”

“Well, thank goodness for that I guess. He’s got those little legs, ya see,” She nodded down at your lap, “but he’s so darn fast anyway, might as well be a midget racehorse!”

You chuckled and smiled politely. That persistent tingling at your back had you holding back a shiver, and the skin on your arms prickled and rose. 

“I didn’t know we could have pet ducks in this building.” Your words belied a confidence, as well as interest in having a conversation with this woman, that you didn’t truly have. 

As a matter of fact, despite the inner scolding you gave yourself for being judgmental, you were quite off-put in the woman’s presence. The want to return to your apartment and shut the door in her overly-painted face was rising like a lump in your throat. 

“He seems to really like you, that’s so sweet. He’s not usually this friendly with anyone but my hubby. That’s Mr. Farrow, honey, have you met him?” The woman - presumably Mrs, Farrow, leaned down just a few feet away. 

She still looked to be examining you and your avian companion, the bland pleasantness oozing yet unable to suffocate the shrewd glint in her dark eyes. 

“Oh, uh, no. I’m afraid I haven’t -” You started. 

“Oh, that’s alright! That’s fine! Matter of fact, he’d get an earful from me if he was talkin’ to a pretty thing like you without me knowin’!” Mrs. Farrow laughed. “Just kiddin’, honey. You’re new to the building though, aren’t you? Well, welcome! It’s nice to see a new face here! ‘Specially a young one!” 

“Thank —”

“Maybe that’s why Lou is so taken with you! Animals just thrive off energy and sunshine and all that. Not slow, almost dead things. I’m sure you’re birds of a feather that way.” 

Again, your soft laughter is polite, teetering on nervousness. 

You took a moment to rise, humming apologetically when Lou squawked as he was jostled. On your feet, you instinctively stepped back. One foot over the threshold and solid in your apartment. 

“He is really sweet.” You said, holding the animal out as carefully as you could. “I’m glad he didn’t get lost.”

Mrs. Farrow stared, arms falling to her sides. She didn’t attempt to take the bird from you for a long, long moment. 

Confusion and disbelief clouded your mind as you stood, waiting, watching as Mrs. Farrow’s throat bobbed when she swallowed forcefully. 

What? Was she afraid of the duck?

In a split-second, she returned to smiling animatedly and waved a geriatric hand in the air so flippantly that the uncomfortable moment ceased to exist. 

“Oh honey, you can put him down if you want. He’ll come back over now that our door’s open.” Mrs. Farrow laughed. “Lou’s not my biggest fan. He’s such a prideful thing, you know. Just like Mr. Farrow - it’s probably why they get along so well!”

You blinked, then slowly bent at the waist to let Lou down. The duck made another disdainful quack, red eyes looking at you morosely. 

It’s little legs eventually rowed through the air in an effort to gain footing. You lightly placed him over the carpet and let go, allowing Lou to jump down. 

The duck began waddling away, though it appeared to hang its head as it did so. Occasionally, he turned to look at you, somber and sullen as if bidding farewell before walking on death row. 

“Aww, poor little thing.” Mrs. Farrow drawled. At your side. “Looks like my Lou is sweet on you! Poor guy, I can see why! Again, a lovely young thing like you is probably a gift from above in this stuffy old place.” 

“Say, how long have you been here?” 

You turned to the old woman. “About a week, I’m still getting settled.”

Mrs. Farrow nodded vigorously, eyes bright but mouth pursed. “A week, a week?! A week and no one’s introduced themselves to you?”

“Holy Toledo, you must think we’re all a bunch a’ snobs in here! That’s no good. Oh! Why don’t you come over for dinner sometime and me and my mister can show you some proper hospitality?” 

“Oh, that's really nice of you —” 

“Sure! Sure! It’ll be great, how ‘bout tomorrow night? It’d give us some time to get prepared, have things cleaned and settled. Do you like steak? That’d be perfect, actually. I’ve got some in the freezer just waitin’ to be defrosted.”

“Um, well — That’s a little short notice…”

“I’m sure Mr. Farrow won’t mind. He’ll be glad for the company, and if he isn’t, well he will be when I’m done with him.” She chortled. “Just another joke, honey. He’s always dyin’ to talk to someone that isn’t me. It’d be a real treat to him. Treat ta me too! What do you say?”

Your mouth opened and closed as a light sheen of sweat broke over the nape of your neck. Mrs. Farrow’s sharp eyes were wider, attempting to beguile you while your head was still spinning. 

“I-I guess, maybe —” You stammered.

“Wonderful!” The eccentric woman’s eyes lit up like fireworks, cigarette-smoker’s voice becoming truly raucous in her delight. “I’ll go ahead and get started. You go get back to what it was you were doing before Lou and I interrupted you! And don’t worry about a thing! We might be old timers, but a good meal and good cheer never go out of style.” 

Mrs. Farrow laughed, pretending to shoo you away until you were back inside your apartment and she was pulling your door to a close for you. 

“Have a good night, honey! We’ll see you tomorrow! 6 o’clock, don’t be late!”

Before you knew it, you were staring at the back of your own door again. 

‘What the fuck just happened?’

[barblaz-arts]

barbz, I─ maybe, we, kinda miss your content.. hope you doing well btw

Ah right sorry. Art block's been a bit of a bitch lately. I also got the flu smackdab on my dayoff so I couldn't draw at all -_- I ended up writing a lil bit for the second chapter of the neighbors AU I started a while back. Chapter 1 was relatively short because it was just an intro but I think following chapters will be as long as the ones in Birds of a Feather(5k words or so). Lemme show you guys a lil bit of the draft as a treat

I actually look forward to writing Tyler(he's supposed to have a big role in Birds of a Feather too). His presence is a really convenient opportunity to write petty/possessive Enid, which is a super fun thing to see in certain doses.

also these sketches for the AU

I'm still not fully on board with how I drew young adult!Enid's hair so I might change that.

[skitskatdacat63]

Prince Jenson of Somerset

+ process & lore

Yayyyyy omg finally have drawn portraits of the four main characters!!!! I'll show the process of Jenson's first and then them all four together. Though it's a shame the Seb/Fernando ones are older, I think it's hopefully obvious how much I've improved since November?

Look at him in all his handsome, princely glory 🥹 It's funny, I'm always happy with the second sketch and initial lineart, and then I start coloring it and I absolutely hate it, and it takes a significant amount of time into the painting for me to like it again. And then I reach a certain point and I'm in love with it again. Ugh though I gotta say, I love drawing the curls, it's just so 18th century, but at the same point, man I always will love my original lineart for the hair the best ah. Also yes I absolutely had to give him a big ass hat with feathers, he really is that kinda guy to me. I originally drew a bicorne and then realized that those don't really exist until basically almost a century later oops, so tricorne it is!!

Okay now omg look at them all together 🥹

Haha wow I have improved a lot! Just like the Seb/Fernando ones, Mark and Jense's were meant to be put together. I think there's a lot of inherent characterization in their poses that highlight the difference between them. Mark is looking up, very wistful, looking up to greater people, greater things. Jenson's head is tilted down, almost looking at the viewer, he is very satisfied with his role and revels in it, he's here to slay!

Okay, yes, lore, characterization, sorry that it is so far down on the post!!

Jense would probably be the fan favorite if this AU was an actual book or show or something. He's the guy you randomly find while browsing Wikipedia and you're like, woah this guy is so cool??? Unlike Sebmarknando, he doesn't really have the same level of angst, he's kinda just chilling. He's a bit harder to write a lore post about, because he's basically that character who is always magically around the corner, ready to witness some crazy thing and just breeze past it.

He is less linked to Seb than people like Mark and Fernando, because he's basically just his personal minister of transportation(read: horse fucker), so he avoids a lot of the relationship complications and drama, but that isn't to say he's completely uninvolved. He really likes Seb, and loves to hang around with him and serve him, but he's not as beholden to him. He's who everyone goes to air their grievances or to get away from the others, and he's very happy with this role. He's generally willing to play any side in an argument, but does tend to have a pretty big soft spot for Seb overall(Seb also gives him cuteness aggression, and he wants to bite him. Especially when Seb puffs himself up and acts super bratty when he gets offended at not being seen as a proper ruler.)

He's royalty from other kingdom, but pledged his loyalty to Seb's kingdom when he was quite young and has served him(his father first) ever since. He started off somewhat low in the military, rose to a pretty high rank, was a renowed war hero, and then ended up retiring pretty early to tend to Seb's horses. That's an oversimplification, but yeah. He liked the military life, was very good at it, but decided he had done enough, and wanted to be involved in more direct service, albeit more laid back. As I mentioned in Mark's post, Mark *really* doesn't understand his choice to do this, because if Mark had been in Jense's position, he can't ever imagine being able to let all that go and living the quiet life.

He is the palace whore, everyone has been with him honestly. It'll be like, some man walks into his bedroom, only to see Jenson in bed with his wife, but instead of being angry, he's like "wow you couldn't even wait for me??" He's just very carefree, and happy to just slut around and tend to Seb's horses.

I think he definitely still advises Seb, and would go to battle if truly need be, but generally seems to be living in a different world than the weird psychosexual homoerotic political drama that the others seem to be living in. But as I said, it's not like he doesn't contribute to it! He loves to goad Fernando, and constantly plays devil's advocate in "debates" between Fernando and Seb. He's also obviously the one that keep "accidentally" locking them in rooms and forgetting where the key is.

Sorry if this isn't very explanatory, I hope it gives a general idea to the type of character he is???? As always, let me know if you have any questions! I kinda struggled on what to write here because I'm finishing this at almost 8 am 😭 so I'm not sure if it's great or not. But basically you need to know: horse fucker who is generally breezy and carefree but also can be a bit of a menace to society every once in a while.

[theratlivinginyourcouchcushions]

Equivalence AU Mabel ideas!

I wanted to experiment with God!zar(?) Mabel, bc I hadn’t seen any designs for it yet. I was also going to try drawing Mabel in her super-demon-y form, (which is apparently blinding white with abyss for eyes and tiny burning pupils) but was two invested in the outfit to really lean into it.

Now for some of my headcannons!

While drawing Mabel, I started thinking about her bird wings, and what kind of traits she might have similar to animals (like dipper and cats) and then it hit me. BIRDS.

An entire class of animals characterized by their ability to DEFY GRAVITY FOR HOURS TO DAYS AT A TIME. (And the ones that don’t are pretty cool too) and I got to thinking about how cool birds are, to achieve this through nothing but MILLIONS of years of evolution. (My thoughts on this are not very organized, but I hope you get the gist.) so anyway, what cool things do birds do, and wouldn’t it be cool if Mabel did them too?

Mating dance. Since it’s pretty much canon that Mizar is still alloromantic and allosexual, wouldn’t it be goofy if she would do a funky little dance when trying to ask people out? (She definitely did this for Henry as soon as she was corporeal for him)

Roosting. Basically making nests in high places out of things she likes, probably perches in it to preen her feathers. (I originally had a similar hc for Alcor, but whatever, they’re demons. But maybe he roosts like a bat instead:) )

Preening. She has a set of ridges under her lip (in front of her gums) for preening her feathers. Her loved ones have little tools to mimic them, and help her get hard-to-reach places. (She often falls asleep during this, similar to Dipper with his hair.)

Migration. I’m still not super organized with this one, but she might try to take off during the winter for long periods of time before coming back, or maybe just circling around to get out energy. Either that or she just tells people that she’s flying south for the winter when she doesn’t want to hang out with them. (This was also a hc meant for Dipper, but now I’m wondering if he tries to hibernate during winter.)

So those were my Equivalence AU headcannons, now for the design choices I made!

I talked a little bit about them at the start, but I still want to talk about it so, here we go!

The fashion was all based on @that-ghosts-art / @that-ghost-pal ‘s Mabel/Mizar designs, and I was very happy for the chance to test out different fashion styles, as well as the braid and shifting tattoos. (For the tattoos I just drew whatever I felt like at the time, and I added a scorpion barb at the end of the braid just for fun.) I added gold-tipped feathers to the wings, and some extra pink bits in her eyes (except for the angry one) I also gave her a crown instead of a top hat.

For God!zar(?) I tried to give her wings a more feather-y feeling than God!cor’s, and made the chest star more like her symbol on the cipher wheel. I muted the colors, and messed with her crown bc God!cor’s hat is a halo, and I didn’t want to copy that directly. I struggled with the hair color for a while before deciding to just bite the bullet, so please excuse any eye scorching color choices (It was originally planned for galaxy hair, but that was given to the wings, and I’m not great with overlapping colors)

Thanks for reading this far into my ramblings, and take a few moments to marvel at the existence of birds (and bats!)

Edit: I’m just now realizing that I forgot to draw the fire.

[eu-ry-dice]

Welcome back to my bullshit

This time; Marc! Aka Argeiphontes, the Peacock Holder of this AU!

Don't ask why, the vibes just work, mk? Mk.

Also, yes, I drew his weird hair thingy as a ponytail. I'm not drawing that shit and you can fight me on it.

And now for the random bullshit facts

• Marc found the Peacock Miraculous in an alley and thought it looked nice, so he decided to take it with him. Meanwhile, Nathalie was freaking tf out cause she lost it.

• He freaked out and threw Duusuu out of a window when he first put the broach on and he popped out.

• His parents own a successful tech business overseas so he uses a voice changer to hide his identity better, using a different voice every patrol. It's also why he can 'sneak out', and be Argeiphontes whenever - his parents are never at their house so he doesn't need to sneak.

• Marc usually sends Sentimonsters (idk what he'd call them tbh) that look like him to help with fights and watches from a distance cause he doesn't want to get in LB and CN's way.

• He can glide thanks to the tail feathers on his costume and essentially has the Minecraft slow fall effect.

• His fan's feathers are extremely sharp and are basically like knives. He can also control them even if he isn't using them to create an Amok.

• He figured out Nathaniel and Marinette's identities pretty quick because.. come on. It's painfully obvious. He's still in denial about Adrien being Chat Noir, though, because of the horrendous puns.

• His 'mask' is actually moreso makeup than a mask. He doesn't intentionally conceal his face, it just happens to be covered by his hood most of the time. His reasoning is because he's basically invisible in his civilian life anyway, so nobody would even recognise him.

• When Marc finally joins the art club and has friends other than Marinette, there's a miscommunication that makes them think he hates heroes and treat him kinda crappy at first cause of it, which is what leads to Reverser in this AU. Luckily he doesn't have his broach on when he's akumatised. He kinda takes the 'hating heroes' thing and runs with it as an excuse as to why he isn't a hero on the rare occasion someone (*cough* Alix and Nath *cough*) starts connecting the dots.

• People can't really figure out if Argeiphontes is meant to be a hero or a villain. He's usually helping, but sometimes his Sentimonsters get out of control and start seemingly attacking people and destroying stuff for no reason. This is mostly because of the Peacock Miraculous being damaged, which he figured out and decides to start fighting himself and not with Sentimonsters.

• The 'childlock' is keeping Marc safe from the damaged Miraculous the most part, but he's still starting to get sick. Later down the line, he'll likely need a mobility aid of some sort like Nathalie had in canon but it isn't taking effect as fast because of the power limitations.

• The hoodie in his costume isn't actually.. a part of his costume. He just consistently puts it on overtop because he gets cold. It also hides his Miraculous, but it's not intentional and he doesn't even realise that he's hiding it until Vixen points it out.

[smilesrobotlover]

what inspired your Link’s outfits? I love them!

Thank you! I’m not sure what inspired them but I’ll just talk about them (without pictures cuz I can’t 😔)

Sky: I really loved the green color he had from LU, how everyone had a deeper green shade while he had a lighter, more minty green shade (maybe not minty green but sh), so I went with that color cuz it suited him so well! I also like him having his sash so I keep them. His design sorta changed, I originally had him wearing more baggy clothes, but I added bracers and tightened up his clothes a tad. I also kept his green pants from the beginning of the game cuz I thought that’d look quirky. The biggest things were the sailcloth and loftwing feather. I always vibed with feather earrings, and I wanted the feather to be king, but when I actually drew it, it was a HUGE pain. So I removed it and just put it on his belt. And I put the sailcloth on his belt as well cuz I HATE drawing capes lol. Luckily drawing Sky for a bit made me realize what I liked and disliked about his design so I was able to change some things. I do love the diamond thing on his chest. Admittedly LU inspired the design a lot lol, but in the end I kept some stuff for myself :)

Minish: the Minish clothes inspired his shirt! I found his og shirt very bland so I spiced things up with a leafy shirt and called it a day UwU. I also liked him having a headband with an Ezlo pendant at the end, thought it looked cute! And I think I added some metal toes cuz what if you dropped a hammer on your feet? Anyways, it’s safe to say LU inspired a lot of these designs and I’m not ashamed to admit that (LU did NOT inspire this au tho)

Time: I was actually inspired by bonus Links with their oot Link having a vest. I thought it was a cute and gave my Time a more farm outfit. I made his shirt a more forest green and gave him a weird eyepatch to cover half his face, and then gave him cowboy boots cuz I thought they looked cool. I lvoe his pants cuz he looks like a sexy mom so there’s that lol. Also, about his hair, this is an unpopular opinion but I prefer his short and spiky hair 😔 I’m sorry to the folks who loved the long ponytail. I also added some gloves that I think are strength gloves that aren’t ungraded? Made his outfit more battle ready (in the beginning the Links were in more comfy clothes but I didn’t like that)

Legend: oh boy, he probably has my fav design lol. I sorta added this red sash thing to go against his green shirt and I think it turned out cool! And the red accents look dope as well! I’m particularly proud of his boots, which sorta resemble the Pegasus boots (I think that’s what they’re called 😭). Also I love the idea of legend link hating pants so he wears shorts. He hates pants. He’s just like me fr

Hyrule: I’m not sure how much of Lu inspired my Hyrule, but I always ADORED Lu Hyrule’s floofy hair so I kept that. I kinda like his clothes being baggy and casual, and I made his boots a little scuffed since he travels a lot. Idk what is going on with his design tho. I cant think of anything specific that I did with his design minus the boots and turtle neck (I noticed one of the designs for Zelda 2 had link in a turtle neck and I thought that was perfect for Hyrule). Yeah not many thoughts. Just like the amount of thoughts going through his head

Twi: oh boy, I just gave him a shirt that matched Rusl’s cuz it has a boob window, gave him that dumb arm thing, his ordon sash and obi, and just sorta lightly tweaked his farmer’s outfit. His boots are meant to have goat fur popping out cuz I thought that’d be cool. Plus an ordon goat on his design cuz he likes goats. Not much to say

Four: I looked at all the knights from the FS manga and tried to make him look like that. I always thought his braid and color thing was unique and showed the four colors well. I also made his clothes more white and cream colored cuz I’ve seen four Links as white and then go colorful when they split and I LOVED that. He also gets a cool cape. He sued to have more Arno but I removed it cuz he’s still a kid and I hate drawing Armor.

Windy: oh boy, I had to change his design since I aged him down, but I gave him a sleeveless overcoat since there are a lot of overcoats with pirates. I also gave him a pirate-esque shirt and made his colors more deadpan green which I ADORE. I always liked his gray pants and simple shoes so I kept those!

Spirit: it’s just his engineer outfit, nothing special lol. A boy…

Age: idk how I feel about his design, but I mixed the knight’s outfit with the champion’s tunic with a hint of the zora armor and Mipha’s scale!

Wild: I sorta mixed the Hylian tunic with the champion’s tunic. Again, idk how I feel about it but Wild has his entire wardrobe on him so I can just change his design whenever I want UwU

Warriors: made his scarf look more triangle and covering his neck, and added some pizzaz to it, idk.

[sapphire-heart-tippy]

Okay so-

I have this headcanon that Vanilla also has curly hair like I do (which is why Ramón has very tight curls)

But Vanilla brushes them out and makes his hair poofy and wavy, while I straighten the crap out of my hair with an iron. I was thinking that Bel does the same thing as I do, but he likes to make it pin straight with the exception of feathered bangs

Ramón is the only one who doesn't do anything with his curls except just let them be free!

Also adding on to that, I'll now start drawing Vanilla with really wavy hair and a little bit of curls here and there. I personally feel like I keep drawing his hair a little too round, if that makes sense??

PLUS in the Voidverse au (where everyone swaps roles, so Vanilla is now in my place as the lovable idiot, I'm in his place as the hardcore right hand man for Lord Jojo, Dio is a head, etc) I drew Vanilla with curly and wavy hair

So yeah, I'm going to start drawing him like that from now on 💪💙💜✨

[frostybearpaws]

pleaseeee tells us all about the arcane warrior cats au. i haven't read the books in so long, but they hold a special place in my brain. also... who was your favorite clan and character in the warriorcats series?

my favorite character in the first series was Yellowfang, honestly it was her gruffness and the fact that she was not a perfect cat that drew me to her character. Because she had kits with Raggedstar, more over the tragedy that was her life, her lost kits, her murdered mate, and the fact that she killed her only surviving child because he has turned into someone despicable.

for the second series I think my favorite was Brambleclaw and the arc he had in over coming his fathers legacy and becoming a better person (then Erin Hunter made him do a 180 lol)

after the second series I started to lose interest in it as I got older and my attention was drawn to other things so I read a little bit of the third series following Jayfeather, Lionblaze, and Hollyleaf but not long enough to pick a feather. If I had to pick one thought I think it would probably be Jayfeather.

my warriors AU for Arcane takes the characters of Runeterra and places them into the warrior cats world with warrior names and roles to match. I have decided to place the land on which the cats live as being either heavily irradiated or post-apocalyptic in some sort of fashion. There are strange mutant creatures they have to contend with that are much worse than the dogs, two-legs, and monsters on the roads

I am still trying to decide if I want the council members to be leaders of separate clans and have Zaun be a break off faction turning itself into a clan, or if I want there to be two clans revolving around the two conflicting cities in Arcane.

as for the characters

Silco is called Scalestar, his father was a hairless kitty pet and his mother was a really scary warrior she-cat. For this reason he’s a little scrunkly and has a thin coat as a result of his genetics. What little fur he does have, it can be seen at Scalestar is a gray tabby.

Sevika is called Steelpelt she is a Maine Coon who was abandoned by a pair of two-legs on the side of the road in a box with her brothers and sisters. She is a unit, like almost twice the size of the cats in her clan. Moreover she is a dark tabby with golden eyes and a look that can kill.

Vi and Jinx were called Baykit and Dustkit when they were still living in the queens den with Vander (Wolfclaw: solid gray, long haired tom) after the death of their mother. Baykit grew up to be Bayclaw (orange tabby she-cat) whereas Dustkit was renamed when she was taken in by Scalestar and grew to be Blueshine (blueish gray fur she-cat)

Dustin, Ran, and Lock are Slickjaw (cream colored tom with patchy mottled fur), Runningstep (black she-cat with green eyes), and Goldfang (cream colored tom with a dark face and paws).

Binzo (Graybelly: gray tabby tom) also lived in the queens den with Wolfclaw and looked after a kit they found abandoned. He called the kit Littlekit (dark brown tabby with white paws and a white pot on his chest with yellow eyes) who grew to becoming Littleflame. However when Scalestar rose to power, killed Wolfclaw (the deputy) and killed Sunstar (gray and white she-cat) he fled.

Singed is called Brackishtoungue (a hairless cat) and is the working medicine cat.

Mel -> Goldenstar (tortoiseshell she-cat)

as of right now I’m still trying to figure out what the others look like, but so far I have

[fairy-tale-writer]

Sweeter Than a Rose and Just as Beautiful

Malleus Draconia x Fem!Reader

Prompt: The reader is surveying the garden for a few flowers when her eyes settle on roses.

Note: Sorta AU to the first meeting with Malleus?

Cheers!

Grim was less than happy about your plan to renovate the Ramshackle Dorm on the weekend. He was planning on taking a lovely cat nap in the sun but instead-much to his dissatisfaction-he was currently awake and breathing in dust.

You were on your hands and knees scrubbing the hardwood floor with a bristled brush. You had swept all the floor, thrown out broken or far too worn items, mopped the floors, dusted, and lit some incense to help with the smell.

This place was almost unlivable.

"Why not just have one of your friends use their magic?" Grim mumbled as you tasked him with cleaning the chandelier.

"They all are probably very busy-and besides we got nothing better to do! Not like I can go onto social media or play video games." You mumbled the last part under your breath.

Eventually, the mysterious stains on the wood were cleaned and you sighed with relief. As you scanned the area your bedroom was much cleaner and the Headmaster was kind enough to buy you a new bed set and a few necessities.

"Ya know, this place could use something..." You thought out loud.

"Like what?" Grim asked swatting at the dust particles flying into his fur.

"Oh! Some flowers!" You spoke out loud.

"Flowers?" Grim winced.

"Plants really bring a lovely atmosphere and aroma. Let's go to the garden and pick a few!"

"Hmmm...do I have to?" The flaming cat thing grumbled.

"No Grim, you can take a break. I'll be right back."

You grabbed a woven basket on your way out and headed into the gardens...

"What flowers should I bring back home?" You mumbled to yourself.

Lilies? Not quite fitting.

Bleeding hearts? You could imagine creating something using them for Riddle later.

Forget-me-nots? Beautiful but not quite what you were looking for.

Carnations? Snapdragons?

Then your eyes settled on them.

Roses.

Their soft petals are as red as blood in perfect bloom. Your eyes widened as you almost hypnotically walked over. You knelt down in front of the bush and caressed one of the soft petals with your thumb.

You just had to have one! These would be perfect to match the color scheme of your room.

Just as you went to pluck it you were quickly reminded that roses also had a dangerous side.

"Ow!" You yelped as you quickly drew back your index finger.

A thorn had pierced through your fragile skin and a pearl of blood started to bulb.

"Roses have thorns you know," An unfamiliar voice spoke.

With a gasp of surprise, you turned your head to see someone walking into your field of vision. Their green cat-like eyes shone in the garden's gentle sun lighting and his black hair glistened like a crow's feather. His pale skin was ashen in color but only seemed to give him a more regal appearance.

Your eyes finally settled on the inhuman horns that protruded from his head making him appear taller. With a soft blush, you realized you were staring and averted your eyes back to the rose bush.

"Uh...right...sorry I got over-eager." You explained.

He continued closer, his shoes tapping against the brick floor until he crouched down beside you.

"Use these."

You hummed and looked down at his hand holding something out to you. It was a pair of clippers used to cut roses from their stems.

"Oh thank you!" You took them from him and started to snip at the best roses until you were satisfied you had the minimum amount needed without ruining the beauty of the bush itself.

"Why are you picking flowers?" The horned man questioned.

"Just to bring some atmosphere to my dorm. My friend and I have been renovating it-the Ramshackle dorm."

"So you're..."

"The new girl? The only girl in this school? Yeah, you probably know me from everyone calling me 'Girlie' or 'MC' but really my name is (Name)."

A faint smile broke out on the man's pale lips, "(Name)? Such a beautiful name."

You blushed and quickly stood, a wave of dizziness knocked into you from standing too fast but you pushed it aside.

"I have to get back to my dorm-my friend Grimm is probably waiting for me." You babbled, "Uh, what's your name so I may thank you properly?"

He stood as well and nodded, "My name is...actually, it doesn't matter. Call me whatever you wish, it was very nice to meet you."

"You too." You bowed your head before holding out the clippers to him, "These are yours."

He hummed and took them from you, a dissatisfied look crossing his face when he noticed your finger was still bloody.

"Your finger..."

"Huh? Oh! It's fine! I'll just head to the nurse and grab a bandaid." You waved it off.

He took your hand and you were rather surprised by how soft and warm his hands were. His long fingers hovered over yours before he leaned down and left a gentle kiss on your wounded finger.

You stiffened sucking in a breath but didn't say anything as his pointed tongue pressed into your wound. His kiss only lasted a few seconds but it felt like a lifetime.

When he pulled away the wound was gone.

"How...?"

"Have you heard of the power of a healing kiss?"

You blushed like a school girl at the word...kiss.

"I apologize, I did not ask for your consent." He abruptly said, mistaking your staring.

"I...I'm still adjusting to magic existing in this world." You rubbed your thumb over the tip of your finger but it was indeed gone.

"Thank you," You smiled up at him and you could see his pale cheeks turn the slightest shade of pink.

"I hope I'll see you again shortly. I need to hurry back to my dorm before Grimm gets worried." Oh, who were you kidding Grim could care less about your safe return.

Sadness seemed to flash for a second in his green eyes but he nodded and didn't stop you, "We will meet soon again...(Name)."

With a final thank you, you hurried off our of the garden.

"That girl..." Malleus said out loud, "She wasn't scared of me...?"

"(Name)...(Name), a Beautiful Rose..."...

[kindestegg]

whooo! i finally drew some things for this au im DEEP into. based HEAVILY on @babbybones‘ “dark princes” theory and “wrong prince” au, this is a set of alternate universes in which the secret bosses take the place of ralsei and instead ralsei becomes a secret boss. based on the theory jevil and spamton were “prototype ralseis”, originally contacted by gaster to become guides, but failed to meet the requirements.

image transcript under the cut!!

[a set of eight images. the first depicts ralsei, a goat-like furry monster wearing a wizard robe and hat, as well as glasses and a scarf. ralsei appears sinister, with a shadow being cast over his eyes, his glasses having a shining reflection, obscuring his pupils. his robe is torn in some places, specially at the heart/spade symbol he has on his chest, making it appear to be a broken heart. the tip of his scarf is lifting up in the air, contorting into a sharp, scythe-like shape. next to him are two arrows that branch off. the first contains a “fight” icon depicted by a sword, and its outcome is depicted by his scarf contorted in that same scythe-like shape with a pointy end. it is called the “scythescarf” and is described as: “a scarf that can magically contort itself into a scythe. stay cozy even when desperate!”. the other arrow is accompanied by a “spare” icon depicted by an X, and its outcome is a headband with horns on it, called the “horned headband”, described as: “a headband that casts a particularly strong shadow. feels nostalgic”.

the second image depicts jevil, a round little grey devil wearing jester clothes. he is holding a staff in his left hand called the “suitestaff”, which appears as a cane with a striped pattern and at its top, four symbols attached together: a heart, a spade, a diamond, and a club. to his right are a list of spells he knows: healing hearts, which heals; defensive diamonds, which heightens defense; crushing clubs, which deals damage, and sleepy spades, which causes sleep.

the third image depicts spamton, a doll-like long nosed humanoid with angel wings and hair that resembles feathers. he is wearing a red bowtie, a black bodysuit, and a sheer robe that is half yellow, half pink. he is holding a golden harp with rainbow strings called the ownstrings harp, and there are spells listed next to him: angel’s hand, which heals; big shot, which does damage; and heaven’s moons, which causes sleep.

the fourth image depicts this au ralsei at different moments. to the top left, he appears incredulous, pupils slightly visible through his glasses, as he stares at someone offscreen. he says “the lightners? what are you doing here?” to the right, he is jumping up, his scarf assuming its dangerous scythe form, as he declares: “i’ll prove to you i’m better than that clumsy clown! and then i’ll be part of your team!”. to the lower left, he appears defeated, kneeling down and looking downwards as a spotlight shines on him. the words battle won! hover above him. under him is his dialogue, as he says: “ah... i see. you three really do make the perfect team. i’m sorry, i was mistaken. we weren’t meant to be friends.”

the fifth and sixth images depict the party’s varying reactions to the sycthescarf. the scythescarf is a weapon only equippable by susie, and she will always say “comfy and deadly. nice.” and it gives her +4 attack and + 6 magic. when trying to equip it to kris, susie will wonder if it just purred at kris. jevil or spamton will also comment on it. jevil says: “are you happy now?” and spamton says “did you finally get [all you could ask for and more]?” when trying to equip it to either jevil or spamton, jevil will say: “ow, stop strangling me! i’m sorry, sorry!” and spamton will say “ouch, [cursing], stop it! no [strangling] allowed!”

the seventh and eighth images depict the party’s varying reactions to the horned headband, a piece of armor equippable by all. it will always give +5 def and heal every turn, but its cosmetic effect changes between characters. when kris equips it, their nostalgia value goes up, and susie will comment on how close they are holding it to themself. jevil will say “old friends... ?” whereas spamton will say “oh, were you already [friend request accepted]?”. when equipping it to susie, she will say “figure i’d grow these some day”, and her bad idea value will go up. when equipping it to jevil he will say “two pairs of horns, double the mischief, uaheehehe!” and his bad idea value will go up. when equipping it to spamton instead, he will say “play as a rebellious half angel half devil in this award winning rpg!” and his coolness value will go up.

end id]

[preciousthingsareprecious]

Hearts Painted on Skin

Written for @damianwayneweek's Day 4. I selected Soulmates for this. I've never written a soulmate AU before, so this was fun to explore. Thanks @audreycritter for the idea! She flooded me with ideas for this week and I am so thankful for them all.

Characters: Damian and Dick

Summary: Damian has a mark just under his collarbone in the shape of a feather. Mother has always told him it was a scar. He was mostly okay with that until he came to Gotham and saw more marks. Marks that could not possibly be scars. He is starting to wonder if she lied, and why.

AO3 Link

~

Damian looked in the mirror, his shirt in his hands, prepared to pull on. For what felt like the thousandth time, he paused to look at the little mark on his skin. It was a feather, unmistakably. Damian had held enough up to it for comparison, whenever he could get his hands on one.

“It is a scar.” Mother’s voice echoed in his head.

It was a statement she’d told him time and time again. Each moment he brought it up. Every moment he looked at a League member who had a darker patch on their cheek, or wrist. Whenever his eyes lingered on flowers and swirls and shapes painted on fingers, arms, feet, and one time an eyelid. She would lean down, her voice soft, promising, full of truth, hard as law, and whisper those four words. It. Is. A. Scar.

“But others have similar.” Damian had asked once.

“Of course they do, they are fighters as well.” she had told him.

Damian believed her. Why would she lie? What reason had she to speak falsely about such a thing?

And yet.

He dropped half of the shirt to run his fingers over it, it was smooth as the skin underneath. It was skin, just of a darker color. A warm chocolate to his tan. It was not raised, not pinched. Nothing about it was creased or seemed to be anything but natural. As if it had always been there.

“But I do not remember getting it.” he had said again, in response to her once.

“You received it when you were young. A baby.”

He had furrowed his brow. Who would harm a baby? Even in the League? Especially Talia’s child? She’d never told him.

Damian tugged his shirt on, covering the spot with soft cotton and a bright pattern of animal silhouettes that somehow did not look childish. He ran his hand over the fabric, again pausing by the not-scar. His eyes flit to his dresser. In the drawer rested a bottle of concealer, matched to his skin tone exactly. It was empty now, used up and he had yet to replace it.

Normally, Damian would cover his not-scar with it. Careful layers blended to hide the fact that anything blemished his skin. It was a dangerous mark. Made when he was a baby, and carrying a weight on it that Mother insisted would draw catastrophe to him if it were seen.

He had complained about the concealer once, hating the time it took to apply and how it made his skin feel itchy sometimes.

Mother had run her fingers through his hair, gentle and loving, “I know, dear, but it is not safe to bring attention to. If others learned of it--you would be in danger.” She had even gone so far as to insist Damian not tell Grandfather.

It was a dangerous secret so terrifying the leader of the League of Assassins could not know. One Damian had to protect him from. At least, that was what Damian had thought then. Now, he wondered if Mother was protecting him from Grandfather.

He tugged on his shirt, testing the collar, even stretched it hid his mark with ease. No one would see it today. Perhaps his new concealer would arrive soon. Pennyworth had approved the order, as something useful to help them hide their identities better. Bruises from patrol were hard to explain, especially when Richard was under scrutiny for caring for him.

A knock immediately preceded, “Damian? You ready?”

Damian turned and nodded at Richard, “Yes, I believe I am.”

He looked over his brother, searching his skin for anything like Damian’s own mark, but beyond real scars, Richard was unblemished.

His brother, and guardian, smiled at him, “Great, let’s go! It’s a beautiful day and I promised you some ducks.”

Damian allowed a smile, “Yes you did.”

They spent the day at one of Gotham’s parks. Richard said they were doing recon to determine if Wayne Enterprise should fund a beautification project, but Damian was well aware his brother was using this as a day of relaxation. He was taking the day off work, and Damian had been excused from classwork for the outing.

He’d intended to take the recon seriously, by marking down elements both in favor of, and against selecting this park as the location for beautification funds. And for a little while Damian had. Then he’d flipped to a blank page in his notebook and started sketching the scene ahead of them.

Beside him, Richard lounged on their picnic blanket, reading what looked to be a romance book, and picking at grapes Pennyworth had packed for them. Normally, Damian would take the opportunity to berate him for laziness, but they had faced a number of difficult patrols over the past few nights and Damian was inclined to let him have his break.

Richard consistently drilled into him the importance of caring for one’s body all the time, mentally and physically. Damian knew this day would make Batman safer in the field, and also--he was kind of enjoying the quiet time. It was new to him, learning to relax and feel safe outside of the very few places he’d had at the League, but he could see the appeal to it. It did help keep him sharp, and he was always better rested after.

So he focused on on relaxing. He sketched for a while, drawing the pond first, and the trees around it. Then flipping the page to work on his figure drawing. As he drew, Damian’s eyes caught on marks. On birthmarks, and scars, and tattoos. Most importantly, his eyes locked onto various not-scars. Which is what they had to be.

He doodled them on another sheet. Drawing each unique one. Even those that were similar in style usually had little differences. A star might have one arm longer than the other, while one was perfect.

The only time he saw two of them match perfectly were on a couple pushing a stroller. The couple had little numbers on the back of their hands, one on their left, the other on the right. Damian pressed his lips together. They could have been tattoos, many people had them, but Damian couldn’t help but wonder.

He had been wondering since he’d arrived in Gotham months ago. People here all had marks. They had marks and they showed them off. Confused, Damian had messaged his mother to ask her. She’d said they were scars, tattoos, birthmarks that were meaningless. They were the marks of a different type of people than Damian had been raised around.

Distance had a way of stripping his mother’s voice of it’s old comforting truth.

But he had been busy learning. There was so much to learn in Gotham that had nothing to do with the mark on his body. Damian had spent more time frustrated about rules, and fearing he’d be sent back to a place that felt less and less like home every day. More and more time learning to be a good Robin to his Batman, and learning to trust Richard.

The question of his mark was rarely on Damian’s mind, and mostly relegated to moments he was alone or like this.

He glanced over at Richard. The man was still immersed in his book and Damian’s question died on his lips. He flipped his book to a new page and focused back on the pond, specifically the ducks swimming around on it. He had, after all, been promised some ducks.

That night they returned to patrol. Damian almost suggested they take a break, but they’d been working a drug trafficking case over the course of the week and were close to wrapping it up. If all went well during this patrol then they could rest. Damian would insist upon it if Richard did not.

They staked out an old appliance store. Richard figured the drugs were being shipped out either in the appliances or the crates. They just needed to intercept a shipment, incapacitate the team working on it, and confirm the drugs were there. Then they could call in Gordon and be done with all this.

Batman and Robin were crouched together. Richard had declared that they should stick close tonight. Damian wondered if it was because he knew they both were still feeling a little worn down. He could read it in Richard’s body language, and he knew his mentor could read the same in his.

After around twenty or so minutes, a truck pulled up to the building and the shipping door opened to allow it to back in. They watched for a moment, confirming no other trucks were on their way, and then both pulled back from the edge of the roof they’d been peering over.

Richard pointed to a large vent they could drop in on the store from. Damian nodded, and followed his mentor. The slipped into the vents, then moved like mice over to where the shipping area was located. Damian paused behind Richard as the man peered through an exhaust vent to watch the proceedings below.

“They’ve started unloading.” he whispered, then tapped something on his cowl and was silent for another long moment, “And they’re talking about the drugs.”

“So we go?” Damian asked.

“I’d say so.” Richard said, “Stick close tonight Robin, I’ve seen a couple guns swinging around and I don’t want to explain a bullet wound to Al tonight.”

“The same goes for you.” Damian responded.

“There’s twelve by my count, two of those are still in the car. Try to get to them first. I’ll grab the guys with the guns,” Richard directed.

“Affirmative.” Damian agreed. Taking out the ones that could remove the product, and the ones that were the most dangerous first was a good idea.

With that, Richard kicked out the vent, tossed a handful of gas pellets, and they dropped into the smoke.

Damian bolted through it for the truck. He was able to easily dodge the men and women in the room, now sent into a flurry of action and confusion over the smoke. He ducked around the driver’s seat of the truck and yanked the door open.

The man inside was shocked, and Damian was able to use that element of surprise to yank the man out of the front, sending him tumbling to the ground. A few quick blows had him unconscious.

Damian straightened, and turned back towards the truck cab. His eyes went wide, seeing the passenger leaning over both seats, a gun aimed out the door at him. Damian dodged to the side as the gun went off. Pain sliced through his arm as the bullet nicked him, but at least it hadn’t hit him in anything vital.

He swore, Richard had just told him not to get shot.

He snarled at the man, immediately returning fire with a batarang. It caught fingers, and the gun went tumbling to the floor of the cab. Damian then lurched forward, and dragged the passenger out of the car. Twisting his arm as he fell to drag it up behind his back.

In another movement, Damian grabbed the man’s other hand and yanked it behind his back, securing them both with a zip tie.

“Stay.” he growled into his ear, “Or you will regret it.”

He climbed up into the cab and jammed a pole under the steering wheel, locking it in place to keep it from moving if anyone tried to drive the truck.

With that, he turned back into the fray. At this point the smoke had begun to clear. Damian could see that Batman had knocked out a few men already, they were down to 8 enemies to fight. Richard’s warning to stay close was fresh in Damian’s mind, his throbbing arm a reminder that maybe his Batman had wanted him to not quite jump ahead like he had. But then again, Damian should have been able to handle two men in a truck.

He huffed, and fell into line beside Batman.

“Robin, you get the car under control?”

“It will not be going anywhere.” Damian confirmed.

“Good.” There was something tight in Richard’s voice Damian didn’t recognize, but there wasn’t time to explore the reason for that the other men and women were on them already.

Damian had to admit, he and Richard worked well as a team. They were efficient, and quick. Richard’s insistence on having them run drills and practice together before they’d ever gone out into the field had paid off early on, and since then they’d only built on that success.

They managed to take out the rest of the criminals quickly, and they prevented any of them from escaping. After that, Richard directed Damian to zip tie the unconscious thugs while he checked out the boxes of goods.

As Damian was finishing up with the last man, Richard called out, “Found them! I’m calling it in.”

“Good, I am finished here.”

They paired back up outside the building as Batman called the car to their location. Damian had his cape tugged over his arm in an attempt to hide the bleeding, but as they waited, a breeze caught him by surprise and tugged it up, and out of the way.

“Robin!” Batman said, “Why didn’t you tell me you’d been injured?”

Damian tugged his cape back in place, scowling, “You told me not to get shot.”

Then his eyes caught on Richard’s left arm, it too was visible and bleeding. Damian pointed at him, accusing.

“You as well! How could you not tell me you’d been injured?”

Richard opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again, “I-For the same reason as you. It happened right at the start.”

That must have been why Damian hadn’t heard it, they’d been shot at roughly the same time.

His brother shook his head, “Amazing, we both managed to do the one thing we didn’t want to. Alf’s going to have a field day with this one.”

When they returned to the bunker Alfred directed them both to a shared cot.

“Shirts off young masters, I’ll need to dress both of those wounds.”

Damian rolled his eyes and started tugging off his vest, then undershirt. It wasn’t until it was off that he remembered he still had not covered up his mark. Hopefully they would lump it in with the other scars across his chest.

It was not to be however. Next to him, Richard had stilled. He was staring at Damian’s chest. Damian could feel it, his eyes locked on the feather just under his collarbone.

He froze, his spine stiffening. He didn’t know what to say. His mother’s excuses felt like lies on his tongue and he knew he couldn’t give them to Richard. The man wouldn’t believe him for a moment.

Richard’s gaze was strangely soft. Not angry or upset or any of the things Damian had come to expect from what someone might do when they saw his not-scar. It made him want to squirm in his seat, but he was Damian al Ghul-Wayne. He did not squirm.

“Damian--” Richard’s voice was terribly soft, his eyes glittering, “I had no idea.”

Damian swallowed, there it was. The sadness that he had thought might come. It was dangerous. Seeing it put people in danger, and Richard had seen it, and Damian--Damian did not want him in any kind of danger.

He reached up to put his hand over the mark, and looked down, “I am sorry--I forgot. Had I remembered I hadn’t covered it I would not have--I would have dressed my arm on my own.”

“Do you not want me to see it?” Richard sounded hurt.

Damian looked back up at him, surprised. Richard sounded like he did when Damian was particularly cruel. He tried not to be that way sometimes, but--well pain or frustration drove him to saying things he regretted.

“I--Mother told me no one was allowed to.” He pressed his palm against it a little tighter.

“Why?” Now Richard sounded confused.

Damian was confused. Shouldn’t he know? The way Mother spoke of it had made Damian believe it to be something that anyone would recognize. A black mark.

“It is dangerous.” Damian said simply, “Just seeing it would put myself and others in danger.”

Richard’s brow was furrowed. Behind him, Alfred cleared his throat.

“Master Damian, might I ask, do you know of soul marks?”

“What?” Damian asked, looking up at him, “No, I have never heard of the term.”

Something twisted in his stomach. Sour and warm. He was certain now Mother had lied. He didn’t know why she had lied, but it was making him sick. The warmth was a kind of hope. An answer to the questions plaguing him since he’d arrived.

“A soul mark is a mark each of us are born with. It is to help us find the person most suited for us in the world. Some people never meet their soulmates, but find love all the same but others do and their marks always match.”

Damian remembered the couple he’d seen in the park, their matching hands.

“So then--this is one of those? Not a scar?”

He let his hand drop, fingers grazing the feather.

“I can confirm that it is indeed a soul mark.” Alfred said.

Damian frowned at him, “Have you seen its match?”

Alfred smiled at him. Richard cleared his throat and Damian returned his attention to him. Understanding now blooming, Richard had thought he’d keep something like a soul mark from him. Had believed Damian wouldn’t want him to know something so personal. He must apologize.

Before he could get the words out, Richard had tugged his own shirt off and there, under his collar bone and just above his heart was a feather. It was the feather. Damian’s feather. The one he had seen every day in the mirror. The one he’d traced a hundred times wondering about.

“Oh.” Damian said.

And then, “I don’t understand. I--we would not be romantically compatible?”

Richard snorted, “Soulmates don’t have to be romantically involved, Dames. It can be totally platonic. Often best friends will have matching marks, or a father and son. It just means--well it means we fit together in a special way. That we’ll always be precious to each other.”

Damian could have told Richard that, and it seemed his body had already done the work for him. Or fate? Damian felt he may get a headache if he tried to figure this out.

The point was, Richard was the most important person in his life. He just--he’d had no idea that it had been declared before he’d even met the man. Before he even knew that they would get to the point where they’d trust each other with their lives. It felt right. Instead of a declaration these marks were a promise.

Richard had chosen to love Damian with his whole heart before even knowing who Damian would be to him. And Damian? Well Damian had done the same.

“I hate to break up this moment, but you are both still bleeding.” Alfred said, “You may continue to talk but I really must begin caring for your wounds.”

Damian blushed, “Yes, of course.”

Instead of talking, they fell into silence, both Damian and Richard lost in their own thoughts. Soon, Alfred was finished, and had dismissed both of them.

Damian looked from Richard to the elevator that would return them to the penthouse and back, “I still have questions.” he said, not wanting to be sent to bed with his mind still racing.

“Me too.” Richard said, “How about some cocoa? We can talk upstairs.”

“That sounds nice.”

They moved up to the penthouse, and Damian sat at the bar, his hands pressed into the marble countertop of it. They’d both dressed in pajamas, but even with a shirt tugged over his soul mark --and how nice it was to have a real word for it-- he still felt exposed. Raw. Like there was something new and strange about him.

But nothing had happened with it. It was still there, still the same color and size. Still just a part of him that he’d always had.

“So.” Richard said, taking the seat next to him, and sliding a mug of steaming hot chocolate over, “You have questions?”

“As do you.” Damian said, taking the mug to hold between his palms, “Why don’t you ask yours first?”

His brother hummed, “I think yours will probably answer mine, but let’s start with something easy or maybe not easy, but, well what do you know about soulmates or marks?”

Damian nodded, “I--Mother never explained soulmates to me. I know the term only in a general sense. A phrase used not literally, but figuratively to describe two people romantically entwined. None of my teachers spoke of it, and no one at the League did either.”

He tapped his mug, “I was not blind, I saw the marks. But I believed them to be other things. Scars, birthmarks, or--well I did not have a word for what they were.” Damian could not look at Richard, it was silly. He should have asked more, pressed Mother for answers or done his own research, “It was not until I arrived in Gotham that I saw so many and began to wonder. Surely not everyone in the world could have gotten tattoos? But--not all were visible and so I did not ask.”

Richard was quiet, listening and taking in Damian’s words with rapt attention. He hadn’t even sipped his cocoa. Damian took a gulp of his, just to do something that wasn’t watching his brother.

“And yours?” Richard asked, “What did Talia tell you about it?”

“I--Mother told me mine was dangerous.” Damian pressed his fingers to his chest again, “I was not to talk about it or ask about it. It was supposed to be a scar, from an attack on me when I was a baby. But I always knew it was not. Still, she was insistent I not tell anyone or let others see. Especially Grandfather.”

Damian frowned, “I thought for a long while it was to protect him. That I was cursed.”

He looked up at Richard, into his brother’s eyes, and knew at last why Mother had been so insistent he stay silent, “But I was wrong. Mother was protecting me, and you. If Grandfather knew I had a soulmate, he would have hunted the world for them, and then used them against me.”

Damian did not think he could have stood having Richard in danger because of him. He hated the very thought that anything would happen to his brother. Especially because of him.

He sipped his drink again, “Mother used to rub her wrist. I saw a mark there once. A little bat. I never asked her about it, and she never offered to tell me--Richard? Do the marks have special meaning? Or are they obscure?”

“They do have a meaning, there’s a lot of meaning in their placement and look and well everything.”

“Teach me?”

His brother smiled, “Of course. I’d be happy to.”

They worked their way through their mugs, and second rounds while Richard spoke. He talked about how soul marks that were hidden usually meant that the relationship was more intimate, but not always. How marks mirrored each other, one on the left, one on the right so that the pair could be face to face and match, like looking in a mirror. How if one’s soulmate died the mark faded to be almost invisible or if their relationship broke and shattered how it would line with cracks.

“Just because someone has a soulmate doesn’t mean that things will work out perfectly. We are human after all.” Richard said.

Some people could be born without marks, and very rarely one would change, and shift to take on the form of another. Most often that happened if a soulmate had died, but sometimes it happened for other reasons.

“And the meaning?” Damian pressed, wanting to know, to understand why a feather? Why this mark on his skin and not something else?

His brother hummed, “There’s books and stuff out on their meanings, especially for marks of similar styles. But when it all comes down to it, the meaning really comes from the pair. Some people know instantly why a mark looks the way it does. A shared memory or love of something. Maybe it is the first line a lover traced across another’s wrist, or an idea that is important to them.”

He leaned forward, elbow on the bar’s counter, “Want to take a guess at ours?”

Damian furrowed his brow, “Robin?” he guessed, “or your previous title, Nightwing is indicative of a bird and flight?”

Richard nodded, “Those are good thoughts. I’ve always looked at it as a symbol of flying and of freedom. But feathers have other meanings too. Trust, loyalty, hope, a connection between the creature who had the feather and where it has gone now.”

“I like those.” Damian said, and then looked down at his mug, “You have given me many of those things.”

“And you’ve done the same for me.” Richard said, “We don’t need to name why it is a feather you know. We can feel the meaning here.” he pressed a palm to his heart, “and just know.”

Damian nodded, “I am glad I share it with you. And--I am glad I did not know before now.”

His brother frowned, then nodded, “I see, if you did, and we’d have seen each other’s marks, then you might have thought our relationship was because of the soul mark?”

“Is that silly?” he said, peering up.

“No. It’s a worry a lot of people have.” Richard reached out and took Damian’s free hand, “But soul marks don’t make relationships Damian. They just indicate potential, and while they are incredibly accurate in that indication, it’s up to us what we do with it.”

Damian squeezed Richard’s hand, “I see. We are--doing well?”

Richard laughed, “I’d say so. We had a rough start, but yes, Dames. I think we’re doing just fine.”

Damian smiled, “Excellent. Thank you for answering my questions.”

“Of course.” His brother stretched, “Now, it’s later than either of us should be up. We can chat more tomorrow.”

“Yes.” Damian said.

They got up, rinsed their cups and moved to the hall with the bedrooms. Damian paused, hesitating before he entered his own.

“I was planning to suggest we take the night off patrol, but our injuries have cemented that. Perhaps we can return to the park tomorrow?” he said.

Richard smiled, “Sounds like a plan.” In a motion he tugged Damian forward into a tight hug and pressed a kiss to his forehead, “Love you, kiddo.”

Damian returned the hug, “You as well.”

[taexual]

i’d love you to stay but that’s simply insane // JJK (18)

   jungkook is an uncontrollable lead vocalist of the campus band, and you’re a goal-oriented top student that’s known his rich and complicated family since childhood. you don’t want anything to do with each other, until each other is exactly what you want to do.

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

genre: college au

warnings: suggestive themes, lots of teasing & domestic fluff 🥺

words: 7.1k

   chapter eighteen

When you woke up the next morning, the first thing that you felt wasn’t the disruptive rays of sun on your face – you’d forgotten to draw the curtains last night – but soft, almost feather-light touches of fingertips on your collarbones. And, even though you had never woken up next to anyone like this before, you didn’t flinch or pull away.

Instead, you opened your eyes and immediately regretted not doing it sooner. Jungkook was laying on the bed next to you, his eyes still hazy with sleep and his lips parted in concentration as he drew patterns on the edges of your skin.

“What are you doing?” you asked, your voice quiet. You weren’t sure if you were truly awake yet, or if this was one of the overly realistic dreams that you’d had before.

Jungkook looked at you, surprised to hear you speak – he hoped not to wake you – but relieved when he saw the soft smile on your face.

“Trying to make sure you’re really here,” he answered, his morning voice breathy and raspy, and enough to make your stomach clench and your smile spread in admiration, despite the corny words.

You closed your eyes again. “Did you practice that line?”

“Absolutely,” he replied, shameless. “How’d I do?”

You hummed in content. “The delivery was nice. But it’s all very cliché. I’d say a six out of ten.”

He chuckled lazily, pulling his hands away and prompting you to look up at him again, in a way a dog would look at the person who’d stopped scratching its’ head – disappointed and outraged by the audacity.

“I’ll do better next time,” Jungkook promised, almost naturally reaching for you again – this time, to brush an unruly strand of your hair away from your face.

“Next time?” you asked, not trying to insinuate anything other than your intention to find out his plans for the immediate future.

He read too much into it, however. He cocked an eyebrow as he lifted himself up on his elbows.

“I don’t like that voice,” he said. “You’re about to tell me I was just a one-night-stand for you, aren’t you?”

You laughed, turning on your back but still watching him. “I’ve known you for twenty-three years.”

“Not like that, you didn’t.”

You looked away, your face warm. The smile on your lips was relentless, however – it gave no opportunity for you to pretend like the stressful night last night, and the way it ended, wasn’t a pleasant visitor in your memory.

“What do you want to do today?” Jungkook asked, feeling his arms go numb from supporting all of his weight, but not caring about it too much because, this way, he could see you better.

“Not a thing,” you told him, completely serious. “I want to stay in bed.”

“Alright,” he said, laying back down next to you as he decided firmly, “that’s what we’re doing then.”

You turned your head to face him. “Your bandmates will kill you.”

“That’s only if I go home,” he said, not seeming the slightest bit fazed about his impending doom. “If I don’t, then I’m safe.”

His indifference got you to smile; the relationship dynamics between Jungkook and his bandmates resembled a sibling connection far more than just a friendship. Still, he needed to do right by them.

“You can’t avoid them for the rest of your life,” you said.

“You underestimate me,” he shot back, very proud of himself.

“Jungkook,” you countered seriously.

“Well, I won’t really avoid them for the rest of my life,” he defended, “but maybe for the rest of the weekend.”

“Jungkook—”

“I liked the sound of my name on your lips a lot more last night,” he pointed out, deliberately distracting you.

He ran his tongue over his lower lip as if he could physically see the bolt of electricity that his words sent right into your stomach. He couldn’t get used to witnessing how the effect he had on you manifested on your face.

“Hmm,” you resisted the pull of his eyes. “Did you rehearse that, too?”

“No,” he replied, leaning in closer, “believe it or not, a lot of this charm comes naturally to me.”

“Must’ve had a lot of practice, then,” you spoke, your voice so quiet, it was barely above a whisper, as his face lingered a few millimetres away from yours.

“Or a lot of daydreams,” he said, “and night dreams. And evening dreams. And morning—”

You ended up having to be the one who kissed him – to shut him up before you admitted that his cheesy pick-up lines made your traitor heart flutter; but it wasn’t so much the lines, as it was the undisguised fondness in his eyes, really. Smiling into the kiss, Jungkook was quick to take over by touching your cheek with his hand lightly, and shifting your face into his so he could deepen the kiss.

You pulled away with a half-hearted whine, your lips smacking as you broke the kiss. “It’s too early. I haven’t showered or even brushed my teeth yet.”

Jungkook looked absurdly offended. “You kissed me!”

“To get you to shut up,” you clarified.

“Oh, so the sound of my voice annoys you?” he jabbed, “very well. Let’s go.”

He rolled away from you and sat up in bed.

You watched him, confused and somewhat disappointed that his plans, clearly, did not include staying in bed the whole day, after all. “Go where? Where are you—”

Jungkook stood up and pulled you by your hands until you were sitting up. You refused to stand until he answered you and he clicked his tongue at your resistance.

“We,” he said, emphasizing the plural word as he gave you one more pull, forcing you to climb off the bed, “are going to take a shower.”

It already felt unusual – and uncomfortable now that it was daytime – to stand around in your room next to Jungkook, dressed in virtually nothing because you hadn’t bothered to find your respective clothes last night: he gave up after he untangled his boxers from his jeans, and you settled for his shirt. Now that he’d mentioned a shared shower, you started to feel even more self-conscious.

“We are—no, what are you saying?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest defensively as Jungkook realized he regretted tossing you his shirt last night – he didn’t want it back now, not unless you were in it.

“Come on,” he said, taking your hand and heading for the door of your dorm.

You stayed put. “Together?”

“You’re not very sharp in the mornings, are you?” he teased and then smirked before you could punch him. “I like that. Yes. Together.”

He kept going – or, rather, tried to keep going because you still weren’t moving – and when he turned to look at you, exasperation was clear in his eyes.

“Jungkook, the showers here are communal,” you told him.

“Even better!” he replied. Not even an earthquake would have changed his mind.

“How is that better?” you frowned.

“I don’t mind an audience.”

You punched his shoulder. “I mind!”

Laughing, Jungkook let go of one of your hands and rubbed his shoulder.

“Well, it’s seven in the morning right now,” he said, not checking the time on his phone again – he’d done that as soon as he woke up, and he decided to abandon the device for the rest of the day. “I’m sure everyone’s still asleep.”

“Seven,” you repeated, all oxygen leaving your lungs until you felt like a deflated balloon. “Oh, God. No wonder I feel so tired. Why were you awake this early?”

“Why would I waste my time sleeping when I’m with you?” Jungkook asked with a face so straight, you’d have really believed all of this came to him naturally. “Now come on, let’s go.”

And you went with him – mostly because he refused to let you refuse, but also because your refusal wasn’t entirely genuine – almost forgetting to grab the towels and the soap on your way out of the door.

You were beyond surprised to learn that the sight of a boy, taking a confident stroll down the hallway, dressed in his boxers and nothing else, didn’t make you cringe and look away at all. If anything, the dorm doors and the people living behind them was what seemed out of place here, because Jungkook – guiding you towards the communal showers – looked like he was right in his element.

“You ever worry your cockiness is going to get you in trouble?” you asked when Jungkook pulled the door open. You exhaled in relief at the sight of the empty shower stalls all around you.

“No,” he answered, smiling. “You do the worrying for me.”

You rolled your eyes. “You give me too much credit. I’m clearly letting you do whatever you want at this point.”

“Oh, so, does that permission include doing whatever I want to you?” he was grinning as he pulled you into the closest stall and pressed you against the tiled wall, forgetting the curtains or anyone who may have walked in at any moment.

“Maybe not while we’re in public,” you replied, managing to push him off of you – and ignoring his disappointed pout, “it’s highly unhygienic.”

“I had a feeling you’d say that,” he countered while you busied yourself with the shower curtain which had one of its’ plastic hoops stuck on the rod and wasn’t moving.

“Well, then, don’t look so sad,” you said, giving him a look over your shoulder – immediately, he smirked at your tone – and tugging the shower curtain harder until it finally slid down the rod and separated the two of you from the rest of the room. “You should have been prepared for this.”

“You’re the one who has to be prepared for everything,” he pointed out. “I just go with the flow.”

“That’s not always a good thing,” you countered, crossing your arms. “As I’m sure you know by now—”

Not waiting until you finished lecturing him, Jungkook settled for the most childish way to change the topic and turned the shower on. You gasped in surprise when the cold water splashed you, soaking the front of your – his – shirt completely.

“Jungkook!” you scolded, jumping away from the direct stream of water while he, predictably, laughed.

“What?” he asked, all sugar and spice and everything nice. “We’re in the shower.”  

Then, to further prove his point that he hadn’t done anything wrong by getting you wet, even if you were still in your clothes, he turned the shower head towards himself and brought his hands through his hair until he was completely soaked.

You were frozen for a minute – which was exactly what he’d intended – watching Jungkook act out a shampoo commercial right in front of you.

“It’s not showering if you’re wearing all of your clothes,” you muttered under your breath finally, once you painfully tore your eyes away from the droplets of water that traced every crevice of his skin; a cascading waterfall that framed his half-naked body.

“Ah, so you want me to undress!” he translated excitedly and awarded you with a wink that could have made the devil himself flustered. “Should have said so from the beginning.”

“I wasn’t—”

Leaning down under the running water to take his boxers off, Jungkook promised, “your wish is my command.”

After a whole lot of giggling and slipping, and very little actual, legitimate scrubbing and cleaning, you and Jungkook walked out of the shower hand-in-hand, with smiles on your faces. 

The sight of the pure joy in both of your eyes as you crossed the hallway back towards your dorm room, left little to the imagination, but you did not run into anyone, so, for all you knew, no one, aside from the two of you, was aware of what had happened in the shower this morning.

In fact, you loved the idea that you and Jungkook were the only people here – there wasn’t a single passerby, a single (un)bothered observer, or anyone else who could have otherwise interrupted you two. It was just you and him. Finally, you-and-him.

“I’ve never lived in a dorm,” Jungkook said once you were back in your room as he used a separate towel to tousle his hair, splashing water around like a shaggy dog. “But I really enjoy the showers here.”

“You got to experience them at a good time,” you replied. “It’s a lot less fun when there are people in every stall.”

“Hmm, I bet. And less fun without me, too, yeah?”

You gave him a look as you unwrapped your hair from the towel on top of your head. “You’re too full of yourself.”

“Me?” Jungkook feigned innocence. His angelic smile was a clear indication that some inane entity had possessed him today and he was absolutely not going to quit teasing you anytime soon. “I’m the most underrated—”

You interrupted, “self-absorbed, arrogant, inconsiderate—”

“—person there is. Hold on now,” he took a threatening step towards you, raising his eyebrows, “did you just call me inconsiderate?”

“Well, you rarely think about other people’s feelings when you do something,” you retaliated and Jungkook – who enjoyed the proud smirk on your lips, but only because he couldn’t wait to wipe it off with a kiss – pursed his lips, shaking his head.

“You mistake my intentions,” he said. “I always think about—”

Suddenly, your phone buzzed, cutting him off mid-excuse. You turned around in the direction of the sound, breaking eye contact, and Jungkook groaned in disappointment.

“Now who,” he demanded, “is bold enough to ruin my monologue about how caring and selfless I am?”

You scoffed, side-eyeing him before you reached for your phone and, much to your surprise, saw a text from Namjoon – who was wondering if you’d found Jungkook last night and if he was alright.

“If it’s Yoongi, tell him that yes, I’m avoiding him, and no, I’m not coming home today,” Jungkook said after noticing the way you bit your lip once you read the text.

“It’s not Yoongi. But you should probably call him,” you said absentmindedly as you tried to compose a text message that involved the right amount of gratitude for Namjoon’s help last night, but also just enough cold politeness, so that Jungkook wouldn’t have any reason to cause a scene. He already had a wary expression on his face after you said it wasn’t his bandmate who’d texted you.

Then, you stopped typing and raised your head to look at the boy, sitting on the bed across from you. “Wait. What do you mean you’re not coming home?”

He shrugged, lying down on your bed. “I’m staying here.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Did we agree on that?”

“Yes,” he replied, “with our bodies.”

You grimaced. “I’m not sure—”

“Oh, you can’t kick me out,” he said – ordered, really – as he patted the bed next to him waiting for you to sit. You did. He continued, “we’ve got so many things we still need to do. All of those movies we haven’t gotten to watch because we keep doing something else when we’re together,” pausing for a moment, Jungkook snickered, “I mean, I wouldn’t mind doing something else again—did you just laugh at me?”

You bit your tongue, trying to conceal your smile, but the playful mood Jungkook was in amused you too much.

“I just exhaled,” you replied, returning your attention to your phone as you pressed send. “Now, what were you saying about—”

“Who was that?” he asked with a nod at your phone now that you’d finished typing.

“Hmm?” you mumbled, not because you hadn’t heard him, but because something about the way your heart skipped a beat at his question told you that he wasn’t going to like your answer, and you needed to win some time to find a way to soften the blow. “Just Namjoon. He was worried about you.”

Jungkook scoffed but, thankfully, didn’t immediately throw a tantrum.

“Doubt that,” he said instead, with dripping skepticism. “We don’t know each other, why would he care—”

“You went off-the-grid last night,” you said, aware that the patient voice you tried to demonstrate may have come off as accusing. That wasn’t your intention but, now that the conversation came up, you thought it was fair he knew that his actions affected more people than just you and him. “It doesn’t matter if he knows you or not. You could have been dead in a ditch.”

“Is that what Yoongi suggested?” Jungkook inquired in a disgruntled tone.

“No,” you said even though it sort of was. “But we were all concerned for you. Namjoon included.”

He rolled his eyes – partially because he didn’t like to be reminded of the hassle he’d caused last night, but also because he had a hard time believing that people who didn’t know him were genuinely worried about his safety, when his own friends, aside from his bandmates, couldn’t have cared less.

“I know you want to see the best in people, but—”

“I’m not seeing the best in him,” you disagreed, “in fact, we got into an argument at the barbecue yesterday and I realized that there’s more to him than I’d previously thought. But when I told him about you, he was really concerned. He’s the one who drove me back to campus to look for you.”

Digesting this new information for a moment, Jungkook swallowed.

Then, when you thought you were going to have to explain your decision to accept Namjoon’s offer to drive you home, Jungkook dismissed the whole thing.

“So,” he said, “Namjoon isn’t who you thought he was, then?”

“He—that’s not what I meant,” you replied, surprised by the direction the conversation had taken, but suspicious when you saw Jungkook smile victoriously.

“No, I’m curious,” he encouraged, sitting up and scooting closer to you – so close, in fact, that you could see the glistening drops of water that he hadn’t wiped off from his chest, “has he let you down? Are you thinking you shouldn’t be friends anymore?”

Before you could be any more distracted – if not by his words, then by his glimmering skin or by his sneaky, yet lovable, smile – you cleared your throat and looked away.

“You need to call Yoongi,” you said, standing your ground, “or else you’ll be the one who won’t have any friends.”

“Eh, knowing me, that’s inevitable,” he waved a hand, dismissing the thought. “I just want to have you.”

Little needle stabs poked at your stomach after he said this. You blinked, preparing to answer, only to realize that his quick wit had momentarily rendered you completely speechless. Jungkook used that to his advantage.

“I’m thinking breakfast,” he said, changing the topic so quickly, it was like he had the attention span of a squirrel. “Do you have any food here?”

Deeply impressed with his determination to slither out of this situation unharmed – because Yoongi sure was going to rip him a new one – you stuttered, “n-no, wait. I mean, we have milk and—”

“That’s what I thought,” he replied, nodding to himself. Then, he stood up from the bed and ordered, “get dressed. We’re going grocery shopping.”

“Grocery—is that necessary?” you crossed your arms, watching Jungkook pace the room and, most likely, regret his decision to spray his own T-shirt with water because he did not have anything else to wear. “I always have cereal for breakfast.”

“It’s not just cereal we need to think of,” he pointed out, choosing to just settle for that T-shirt. It was supposed to be warm outside anyway. “We have to stock up on food so we wouldn’t have to leave this room for the rest of the day.”

You raised your eyebrows. “You were serious about that?”

“I’m serious about everything,” he retorted and then, untying the towel on his waist in order to put his jeans on, he nodded at you and urged, “come on.”

Not moving one bit, you declared, “call Yoongi first.”

“I’ll call him later.”

“Call him now,” you insisted. “He’s been worried sick since last night.”

“He’s probably still hungover, I’ll call him later—”

“Jungkook,” you said, your voice firm. You didn’t want to enter another conflict with him but, now that you two were obviously going to be spending a lot of time together, it was important for you both that Jungkook actually took responsibility for the things that he did. “He didn’t sound drunk at all when he called me last night. Call him.”

As stubborn as he’d ever been, Jungkook shrugged – and then nearly toppled over as he lost his balance while pulling his jeans up his legs – and said very casually, “then maybe he was high and you couldn’t tell over the phone.”

You could have laughed at this.

“Oh, no, trust me. I’ve talked to a high Yoongi once before,” you said. “I can tell.”

He had several other arguments up his sleeve – excuses were his specialty – but you looked determined to shoot down every single one of them and, at the end of the day, Jungkook didn’t want to spend the rest of the day arguing with you about this.

“Fine,” he gave in. “Give me five minutes and a soundproof room.”

You knew this wasn’t a compromise – Jungkook didn’t look like he’d changed his mind and suddenly understood that he had to do this; he looked like he was only doing this as a favor to you – but it was still something, so you crawled down the bed towards where he’d left his phone last night, and handed it to him.

“He’s not going to yell—okay, he probably is,” you admitted, “but you deserve it. Go talk to him in the hall, though. I’ll get dressed.”

This intrigued Jungkook and he took one last chance to stall, “ooh, can I watch?”

“No,” you answered and got off the bed, watching him buckle his belt. “You focus on your redemption.”

“My redemption,” he repeated, mocking the pretentious word and still refusing to move.

Ignoring that, you pushed him out of your dorm and into the hallway and, waiting for a second to make sure he really was dialing Yoongi’s phone number – “I’m doing it, alright? But if you’d rather I helped you get dressed—” – you shut the door and returned to your room to find some clothes.

When Jungkook returned several minutes later, he looked more solemn than when he’d left, but the glint in his eyes wasn’t too far gone.

“Did he give it to you good?” you asked, as you rolled up the sleeves of your cardigan.

“Actually, I think he was holding himself back a little,” Jungkook replied, scratching his right ear to indicate just how much yelling he’d had to endure out in the hall. Then, inhaling and seemingly dropping everything he’d just heard, he asked, “so, you ready to go? I was thinking it’d be nice to have some eggs.”

You spent the rest of Saturday in your dorm room, being about as unproductive as it was possible for two people to be. You got through two movies (you’d tried to watch five; Jungkook had no patience to sit through the rest) and finished a full bag of popcorn (you’d opened three; the rest of it ended up on the floor of your room as you played a very unsuccessful game of throw-and-catch and then, consequently, throw-and-try-to-hit).

You lost count of how many tears of laughter you’d shed. Or how many times you’d punched his shoulder. Or how many times he cut you off with a kiss when you gave more attention to the movie than to him.

“You’re like a retriever,” you told Jungkook that night, when the two of you were laying on your backs, side-to-side, your hands and hearts intertwined. “You’re hyper-active, unpredictable, and you need constant attention.”

“Also self-absorbed, arrogant, and inconsiderate,” he added, mentioning all the colorful adjectives you’d called him over the course of this one day.

You exhaled in a half-snort, trying to pull your hand out of his, but failing when he refused to let go, pulling on your hand until you turned to your side to face him instead.

“Is there anything good about me?” he asked you.

You squinted. “Are you fishing for compliments?”

Jungkook smiled, shaking his head. “No. I’m just asking. Because if there’s not, then why do you put up with me?”

“Because you’re trying,” you offered, “because you never give up. You work hard, you’re dedicated and determined. You’ve always got your eyes on the prize—”

He cut you off, “that sounds like the opposite of all the negative things you’d said about me.”

You didn’t see the problem there and you shrugged your shoulders.

“There are two sides to every coin,” you said, unsure if he expected you to shower him in compliments at all times, regardless if he deserved them or not. Actually, knowing Jungkook, that was probably precisely what he expected.

“You didn’t call me funny,” he pointed out then.

“Because you’re not,” you dead-panned.

Jungkook scoffed and looked away from you, declaring with great dignity, “I happen to think I have a great sense of humor.”

“You happen to think a lot,” you mumbled.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You snickered. “Here’s another one – you can always turn a negative situation into something better.”

Jungkook lowered his eyes to your intertwined hands, the smile on his face growing fainter, even if the atmosphere in the room remained as laid-back as before.

“Not always,” he said in a hushed tone, not daring to pose the risk of ruining the good-natured banter.

Even though he was careful, it was still obvious that you’ve hit a sensitive spot. Not having any intention to do so, you’ve brought back the fact that, in all twenty-three years of his life, Jungkook hadn’t managed to turn the negative opinion of his father into something better.

“But you always try,” you said, less confident now that you saw how easy it was to trigger something that was too big to fix with just a compliment.

“That’s not enough sometimes,” he said, purposefully avoiding sad undertones and, this way, making himself sound even sadder.

“And other times,” you argued, just as persistent as he was, “it’s more than enough. Stop painting everything in black and white, you always do that.”

Noticing that this was turning into a fight that neither of you would win, Jungkook looked at you with a half-smile on his face. “I thought I always turned the negative situations into positive.”

“You don’t do that when it comes to you,” you replied. “Your biggest flaw is being too hard on yourself.”

In the time that he’s been a member of Parental Advisory – and even before, when he was just an heir of a multi-millionaire – Jungkook had had nearly every single one of his flaws pointed out: none of them were new, he was already aware of them all.

He worked on some of them – the ones that he thought would genuinely help him improve: practicing new singing techniques, making sure his band was his first priority, learning how to communicate with his audiences and how to write lyrics that held more impact.

He’d never had anyone tell him that he tried too hard. And he’d never realized that that was true this quickly, either.

Jungkook didn’t consider himself to be someone who wanted to accommodate others. He never followed the societal standards if they contrasted with his wishes. He didn’t care about what other people thought of him; as it turned out, he worried about his own perception of himself instead.

“Maybe it helps me improve,” he said, not feeling like he deserved the credit for this particular flaw when he hadn’t succeeded in changing himself for the better yet.

“Maybe,” you agreed, giving his hand a supportive squeeze. “But give yourself a break sometimes. You’re really not all bad.”

“I needed you.”

You were teasing him and expected him to bite back in an equal way, but the serious tone of his voice took you by surprise. “What?”

“I needed you,” he repeated, “to be able to turn the negative into positive. You’re my better half.”

Despite the beating of your heart and the warmth that spread to your face and forced you to smile, you still shook your head.

“I’m not,” you said, meaning it, “you’re a full person. Not just a half.”

You thought he’d let go of you so he could protest and insist that he was right, but he did no such thing. Instead, he held you tighter and, for a moment or two, being pressed so tightly against each other really did make you feel as though you were two individual parts of the same set – good on your own, but great when paired together.

Jungkook didn’t let go of you the whole Saturday night or the next morning, or the afternoon. That made your normal, everyday functions very complicated – like brushing your teeth, when he was hugging you from behind and purposefully snoozing with his head on your shoulder – but you’d have been out of your mind to complain.

When you arrived to his parents’ house for your Sunday night dinner, Jungkook still had one arm around your waist, as if touching you came naturally to him and he didn’t even realize he was doing it.

As soon as his mother opened the door for you two, she could tell that there was something different about you – maybe it was the fresh glow of having spent the whole weekend locked up together, or maybe she could read your minds – but the wide smiles on your faces were too beautiful of a sight for her to question it.

“Come in,” she encouraged, “it’s lovely to see you, like always.”

“Ah, you’re here already!” Jungkook’s father climbed down the stairs just as you two passed the threshold into the house. Feeling the way Jungkook tensed – his usual reaction – you tried to make up for it by smiling widely.

“Hello,” you said, suddenly feeling ridiculous to be grinning like this for no reason.

“Son,” his father said, acknowledging Jungkook’s presence with a nod and earning one from him in return. “Are you feeling better, dear?”

You didn’t realize his question was directed at you so, for a moment, the four of you lingered awkwardly in the hallway while you waited for Jungkook to answer before you realized that, for one, Jungkook’s father had never called his son “dear”, and, furthermore, it was you who had supposedly gotten sick in the middle of the company barbecue this Friday.

“Oh!” you blinked, trying to remember if Namjoon mentioned what sort of illness he was going to give as your excuse. “Yes, thank you. I’ve gotten some rest and I-I’m much better now.”

“That’s good!” Jungkook’s mother said. Nor her, nor her husband seemed suspicious even though Jungkook inhaled sharply, attracting their attention. “We were very worried when you left early – if you’d stayed just a second longer, we could have driven you home ourselves, we were going to go back anyway.”

“Oh, that’s alright,” you replied, aware that Jungkook didn’t know about this part of your Friday night – he hadn’t asked if you’d left the barbecue early – and, evidently, learning of this right here, right now, didn’t exactly please him. “My friend from university was there and he was kind enough to offer me a ride back to campus.”

Jungkook’s father cleared his throat – an involuntary reaction, similar to that of his son’s before – and gave you a kind, almost apologetic look, “if Jungkook had gone with you, he could have been the one who drove you home.”

That offended you as much as it offended Jungkook – but for different reasons. Jungkook’s dignity was obviously hurt because he had, once again, let his father down. But you were displeased because his father made it sound as though you needed a chaperone. As though you were some damsel in distress.

“No, really, I’m glad he didn’t go. I wouldn’t have wanted him to leave early,” you ended up saying, your polite nature persevering. You could understand Namjoon a lot more now – it was easy to let your real feelings slip if you weren’t paying attention to what you were saying, but hiding them under a mask of good manners and respect, was far more beneficial in the long run. “And, actually, it was even better that he was back on campus, because he helped me out a lot this weekend. Really, I probably wouldn’t have recovered as quickly as I did if it weren’t for him.”

You weren’t just saying that to make Jungkook look better – but there was still gratitude in his eyes when you met his gaze – because he had truly turned your weekend into a time of healing just by spending it with you.

“That’s wonderful,” Jungkook’s mother was the one who responded – Jungkook’s father just smiled mysteriously – as she brought a hand through her son’s hair in adoration, “let’s head to the dining room now, alright? The food is getting cold. You can tell me how your semester’s going. I assume you’ve got finals coming up soon, isn’t that right?”

That was right – well, sort of; you still had about a month of classes left – and it prompted you to start a conversation about school, which allowed Jungkook to casually bring up the fact that he’d knocked his professors off their feet by passing all the tests that they had predicted he would fail. His father, of course, did not express his surprise or say anything encouraging, but he gave a very impressed nod and that was more than enough.

The dinner only seemed to last a few minutes – it flew by like it always did – and you found yourself in your already usual position: offering Jungkook’s mother to clean up, while she forbade you from doing anything and insisted you stayed back and relaxed.

Relaxing was what you and Jungkook had done here last Sunday – before his mother knocked on the door of his bedroom and interrupted you two – so, not very excited to have history repeat itself, you didn’t mind when Jungkook made an excuse to leave early today.

His mother seemed sad to hear that – dessert was just as important part of dinner as the actual main course – but she didn’t push you to stay. Maybe because she could see the look in Jungkook’s eyes and she knew him well enough to understand that, although he had a sweet tooth, her son would have gladly rejected dessert just to get to spend more time alone with you.

However, alone time wasn’t the reason why Jungkook wanted to leave early – you learned that as soon as you sat down in his car and saw his hand lingering by the ignition, not ready to put the key in just yet.

“You okay?” you asked tentatively, already trying to analyze the dinner in your mind, hoping to come across a moment that could have stuck with him.

“I didn’t know,” Jungkook said finally, “that you had to leave early. I’d assumed the barbecue ended and that was why you got back to the dorm.”

You lowered your eyes, realizing that your failed attempt to get to the bottom of things on Friday night – it was generous to even call it an attempt, considering that you were ripping each other’s clothes off within twenty minutes of seeing each other – had now caught up to you.

“Yeah,” you said. “I got Yoongi’s call in the middle of dinner, and told him I’d go back to campus to look for you. He told me you went missing, I wasn’t going to sit around eating grilled sausages and wait for you to turn up.”

That wasn’t exactly what Jungkook was trying to talk to you about – he’d already put the pieces together – and, taking a moment to admit to himself that he did feel guilty about this, he exhaled before speaking again.

“You could have told my dad the truth,” he said. “Or you could have left without bothering with an excuse, he would have probably assumed it was my fault, anyway.”

“I’m not stupid,” you replied, “you’re trying to make progress with your father. You may not be doing very well, but why would I halt your process? I’m on your side, remember?”

He nodded. “I remember. I’m just saying, y-you didn’t have to do that. You didn’t have to stand up for me tonight, either.”

“Technically, I did,” you replied, smiling now. “We started to go to these Sunday night dinners for a reason.”

For a good minute, Jungkook really struggled to follow your train of thought. Even though it couldn’t have been more than a month, these dinners with you had already become a part of his routine, so the fact that you were, theoretically, only here to prove Jungkook’s maturity to his father, seemed very obsolete now.

“Well,” Jungkook said, considering your new situation. Chuckling lightly, he added, “that’s stupid now, isn’t it?”

“What is?”

“Pretending to be dating when we actually are.”

Catching the perfect opening, you teased, “we are?”

He gave you a look that dared you to test him.

“We haven’t been on one date,” you defended – sensibly so, really.

Jungkook narrowed his eyes as he looked at you, wanting to point out the flaws in your words, but having a hard time finding any, because, in the normal sense of the word, you hadn’t actually gone on any dates with him.

“We went to my party last weekend,” he still tried, figuring that the term ‘date’, when used loosely, could really mean just two people hanging out together.

You scrunched your nose, enjoying this game. “Was that a date?”

“We spent the whole weekend together,” he tried again.

“Was that a—?”

“You are my girlfriend,” Jungkook cut you off finally, his voice forceful and determined. “And you have no say in that matter.”

He looked you right in the eyes as he said this – boldly challenging your undeniable authority over this moment in the car – and you tried not to, but still ended up laughing.

“You’re taking away my freedom of choice,” you said.

“Are you saying,” he asked in a teary tone because his go-to maneuver in cases like this, was extracting pity, “you don’t want to be with me?”

“I’m not,” you replied, resisting him with surprising ease. You’d taken a page from his book and you were almost gloating as you watched how flustered he became with every word that you said, “I’m just wondering why you can’t ask me out like a normal person. Like someone who hadn’t known me for years.”

He observed your face for a second, making sure that you were serious – you were – and then sighed so deeply, it was like he was hoping to cleanse his dignity of whatever damage your words had done to it.

“You like me like this, don’t you?” he asked, aware that you had turned the tables on him.

“Like what?” you were still grinning. You absolutely liked him like this. “Do you think you’re too good to ask someone to be your girlfriend? Is that beneath you somehow or—”

“I love you,” he said sternly, cutting you off so quickly and successfully that your throat dried up as soon as he said this. “Please be my girlfriend.”

Biting the inside of your mouth to stop yourself from smiling at the juxtaposition of his pink cheeks and his determined eyes – while also, cringing at the cliché words that you’d forced him to say – you nodded and did not say anything else.

“What, that’s all I get?” Jungkook widened his eyes, scoffing in disbelief. “I ask you to—and you nod your head?”

You couldn’t help yourself as you replied, “I’ll think about it.”

Completely flummoxed, Jungkook examined your features without blinking or breathing. You really did have him right where you wanted him. If someone had told him that the reason why you stopped being friends once upon a time, was because he had too much influence over you, he wouldn’t have believed them.

“Enjoy this while you can,” he said a minute later, shaking his head and putting the key in ignition before finally starting the car. “You have endless weekends like this ahead of you, try to keep me on my toes.”

This didn’t put out your fire as you continued, “is that a challenge?”

“That,” he said, his voice more promising than threatening, “is a warning.”

You laughed before relenting just because you didn’t think it was fair to have his confession linger in the air like that, “I love you, too, Jungkook.”

He rolled his eyes, backing out of the street where he’d parked his car. “Oh, now you say that.”

“Better late than never,” you pointed out in a laid-back tone.

“Better all the time than late,” he retorted.

“You’re needy,” you said.

Jungkook didn’t skip a beat as he drove down the street back towards your campus, and still found enough time to glance at you, “you’re uncooperative.”

“You’re prideful,” you shot back.

“You’re controlling.”

“You’re reckless.”

“I love you,” he challenged.

“I love you more,” you fought back.

Jungkook cocked an eyebrow at this. “Don’t go there. I like to win and I am not above proving to you how much I love you the whole night tonight.”

A simmering fire in your stomach suddenly erupted into a bright flame.

“I have an early class tomorrow morning,” you said, more of a reminder to yourself than to him. “We both do, actually.”

He merely scoffed. “You think that would stop me?”

You shook your head, chuckling. “Just drive. Like you said, we have endless weekends like this ahead of us.”

And, even though you’d spent the bigger part of the weekend bickering and bantering, teasing and playing, both of you felt yourselves smile at the prospect of getting to do this again at the end of the next week. And then, at the end of the week that came after that. And then, the week after that. And after that.

At the end of every week, really. For as long as you wanted – be it the rest of your lives, or until the world ended.

keep reading | masterlist

[smellsfaintlyofvanilla]

hi may i request a mikasa x gn reader soulmates au? maybe the tattoo/marks trope or the visions/dreams trope up to you :) thank you in advance!

Finally some Mikasa, I love her sm

Also, I wasn't super sure what specific tropes you were talking about, so I just kinda took an idea and ran with it, hope you don't mind.

Anyway, this POV follows Mikasa, which is different from what I usually do, a POV of the reader instead lol

Rosebud

(Mikasa Ackerman x Reader)

AU: Canon, soulmates AU (You have a unique tattoo that only you and your soulmate have)

Warnings: None

Category: Fluff

Summary: Mikasa was doubtful of soulmates, but an unexplainable force draws her to her soulmate one day, and Mikasa has no choice but to confront it.

Words: 2.7K

Mikasa never really believed in soulmates.

She thought the idea that everyone had a destined, unchangeable partner was ridiculous. The perfect person just "appearing" whenever the universe decided she needed them wasn't something she understood at all.

And yet, the evidence of her having one was splayed gorgeously across her back. Stretching from shoulder to shoulder, a large, beautiful tattoo was inked on her back. Feathered wings, outstretched and reaching towards nothing, and around them; roses. Red roses and thorned vines wrapping around the wings and budding up at the top, exposing a single rose bud on the nape of her neck. Though, it remained hidden behind the crimson red scarf she adorned.

She had kept it hidden constantly, lest her soulmate notice it and complicate things. For all she cared, she would keep it hidden forever, and her soulmate would be none the wiser.

She stared into her reflection in the mirror, collecting a small amount of water in her cupped palms and splashing it in her face, making sure her body was wide awake for morning training.

She turned around, staring at the tattoo with an indecipherable expression. She was still topless, not having finished dressing yet, giving her the opportunity to observe the art. Whether she believed in soulmates or not, she couldn't deny the absolute beauty of it.

Hesitantly, she slid on her bra and shirt, wrapping her scarf around her neck just enough to cover the rose. It could stay hidden a little longer.

Time came for morning training, and she suited up in her ODM gear. Today was race day; something that came once a week, where, in the morning, they would race through the forest with their gear, and the first to take a flag from Shadis on the other side was declared winner, and got double rations for the week.

Armin geared up next to her, his sleeves riding up his arms, revealing the tattoo on the inside of his forearm—a golden compass, opened and facing North. The glass covering the needle was adorned with small droplets of water, and foam, presumably from some body of saltwater, surrounded the accessory.

She looked away, choosing to ignore the way it made her heart twinge. Sometimes, rarely, she would indulge in the idea of having a soulmate. She hoped that, say it be true, her soulmate would truly understand her and care for her, and, most importantly, love her, something she unfortunately didn't experience a lot of in her childhood.

A shrill whistle startled her out of her thoughts—the first whistle. It signified 30 seconds until the start of the race, where he would blow it three times in short succession to start the chaos.

She lined up on the white line, drawn in the dirt with chalk, and stretched her arms over her head, releasing the tension in her body before the race started.

Finally, after a tense silence between the soldiers, the whistle blew, and all the Cadets instantly took off, whirring and spinning into the darkness of the forest.

Mikasa shot off, easily finding her place in the top three. Reiner was to her left, and, despite his large build, he managed to carry himself effortlessly, flying through the air like an eagle. And, to her right, the three week reigning champion—you.

Your hair blew behind your face as you pierced through the air, dodging the thick tree trunks and jutting branches as you flew towards the goal.

You turned your head, eyes meeting hers with a competitive smirk, wordlessly challenging her, temping her, even.

Mikasa perfected her form, leveling her body and shooting the hooks of her gear into just the right places to give her the highest momentum. She easily slipped past you, eyes set straight forward towards the goal as she stole the first place spot.

You swore under your breath, immediately thinking of how you were going to pull ahead of Mikasa during the home stretch.

You aimed your ODM gear at a tree in the distance, seeing if you could use the momentum to slingshot yourself forwards and towards the goal.

But, as soon as the hook buried itself into the wood, the wire twisted and stretched, clearly going on beyond it's limits. Still, you decided that would be a problem for the next gear inspection. For now, you could stand to damage your gear a little bit to pull ahead of Mikasa.

Mikasa watched, jaw slightly agape, as you sped in front of her, easily gaining a ten meter lead on her. Her daze lasted only a slight moment, as a loud screeching noise drew her attention away from your sudden lead.

She searched around for a moment for the source of the sound, until she located it right in your direction. Her eyes widened in realization—your ODM wire was strained, and started the fray as it twisted and stretched.

You seemed to notice your peril shortly after, but there was nothing you could do at that point. The last metal strand of the wire strand snapped, and it gave out instantly, still dug into the tree.

Panic immediately shot up your spine, bracing yourself for impact as your previous momentum shot your face first towards the forest floor.

Mikasa's eyes wandered involuntarily towards your stranded form, watching in horror as you collided with the dirt, kicking up a cloud of dust laying limply in the shrubbery.

Part of her just wanted to finish the race—since she was now in first—and claim her rations. But, a sudden, external force drew her to you, her body moving on its own as she rushed to your side.

Soldiers flew past her overhead, the buzzing and whirring in her ears making it difficult to tell just how fast her heart was beating all of the sudden.

She dug through the grass and shrubs for a moment, searching your limp figure. Once she found you, she pulled you up and out of the dirt. You were awake, but somewhat lethargic, staring up at her with droopy eyes. Blood trickled down your forehead and over your cheeks, dripping from your chin.

"Shit, Y/n...!" She cursed under her breath, scanning your body for any other injuries, letting out a heavy sigh of relief once she realized there were none.

"Are you alright? Does your head hurt? Can you walk?" She bombarded you with questions, pulling your body into her lap. She had no idea why she was so concerned with you all of the sudden, but the urge to make sure you were okay was absolutely overpowering.

"I..." You raised your hand the gash in your head, pulling it away and gazing at the blood coating your fingers. "...could be better, but I think I'm alright." You sighed, resting an arm over your chest out of exhaustion. "Hurts like a bitch, though."

Mikasa sighed, brushing the loose strand of hair from your face.

"Mmm..." She hummed, rubbing her temple as the roots of a headache started to form in her head. Terrible timing, though it was inevitable considering the sudden stress this situation brought her. "Still, I should bring you back. You don't look so great right now."

You sighed, nodded your head slowly, the pain of your fall seeping its way into your aching body as the adrenaline started to wear off.

You stood up, slowly starting to walk back to the barracks, but found your legs suddenly unable to support your body weight as you stumbled and collapsed forward. Luckily, Mikasa dashed to your side, wrapping one arm around your shoulders and the other over your stomach to support you and prevent your fall.

"Hang on." She muttered, moving in front of your to slink her arm underneath you, picking you up and slowly carrying you towards the barracks.

You immediately buried your nose in the crook of her neck, the head injury clearly clouding any sense of shame momentarily. You inhaled her subtle, yet sweet aroma, slowly dozing off in her warm embrace.

It took Mikasa a good few minutes to realize you had fallen asleep, once she had asked you a question for the third time and didn't get a response. Once she realized, though, she just moved the arm that wasn't supporting you up to your head, keeping your head in its place. For some odd reason, she found comfort in its being there.

Small twigs snapping and grass rustling, plus your soft snoring, were the only audible noises at this point, the other soldiers far too far away to hear. Even if the two of you were close enough, even the person in last place should've crossed by now. She paused to wonder if Shadis would mind both of your absences, but dismissed the thought. At least somebody had to have seen you fall.

She sighed, gazing up at the sky.

"What am I doing right now?" She wondered aloud, now that there was no one to listen. "Why am I helping you?" Her slender hand brushed through your hair, trying to make you as comfortable as possible while you slept.

She had no clue, honestly. She had always been a close friend to you, but to go to such lengths to comfort you, she wasn't sure why. And she wasn't sure, either, why your gentle breathing against her was so calming to her. Really, she had no reason to be feeling this way.

Her feet slowed to a stop in front of the main building of the Trainee Regiment. Slowly, she pushed the door open and walked down the corridor towards the nursing room.

Gently, she set you down on the bench, stirring you awake as you opened your eyes, scanning the new environment with confusion.

"Where are w-"

"The medical office." She cuts you off without thinking, rummaging through the nearby cabinet for bandages, or something to wrap your head in.

Finding the small, white roll tucked away in the back, she turns back to you, unraveling some of the bandages and slowly wrapping them around your head.

"It really isn't that bad, Mikasa." You stated, yet made no effort to stop her.

"Liar. You passed out on the way here." She deadpanned, finally finishing the bandages. Grabbing a small cloth and running it under the sink, she dabbed it across your face, cleaning off the dried blood.

"I didn't pass out." You huffed out, stubbornly.

"You were asleep almost the whole walk."

"Just a power nap." You concluded, making her giggle.

"Whatever you say, just... be more careful. You probably already have a concussion, we don't need more than one TBI per month." She joked, smiling bashfully as you laughed at her quip. Mikasa wasn't a jokester by any means, so to see her so comfortable around you was a shock.

Mikasa pulled the cloth away from your face, examining for any missed spots. She almost put the rag away, satisfied with her work, until she saw a little dash of red across your nape.

"Turn around. You have blood on your neck." She whispered, and you obeyed silently, turning around.

She outstretched her hand, preparing to wipe the crimson off your neck, until she noticed. That's not blood at all.

It was a rosebud.

She blinked once, twice, making sure it wasn't just her imagination. It was identical to the one she had of the back of her nape as well—she knew it far too well, she saw it every other morning.

Without thinking, she grabbed the head hole of your shirt, pulling the cloth down to your mid-back to get a closer look.

"Ack—! Mikasa what are-" You sputtered, confused by her sudden forcefulness, contrasting her previous gentle behavior.

She paid no mind to your protests though, gazing in amazement and bewilderment. It was the exact same as the one she had, a perfect replica.

Clearly, she had never thought to take in the beauty of it until now. Now that it was inked into your back and not hers, she could see just how marvelous of a drawing it is.

"Y/n..." She exhaled, so quiet that she was surprised the sound even passed her lips coherently.

"Mikasa, what's gotten into you?" You inquire, turning around to face her, pulling your shirt back up over your shoulders in the meantime.

The second your eyes meet hers, she throws herself around you, wrapping her arms so tight around your chest that you swore you couldn't breathe.

Tears threatened to prick at her eyes. No matter how much she didn't believe in it, the stories were true. The stories of how you'd feel when you first connect with your soulmate. And, guessing by the way your breathing faltered and your mouth hung agape, you could feel it too.

She pulled away, leaving you confused, but also a little colder without her body pressed so close to yours.

With no explanation, she raised her arms and slid her shirt over her head, causing you to flush bright red and start to panic.

"Mikasa, seriously, what the hell is going on-"

"Look." She turned around, and the winged tattoo was on full display. It matched yours completely.

"Mikasa, I..." You tried to think of something to say, but no words fell out. You didn't expect to meet your soulmate, not this early, not her.

She didn't know what to do, either. She never expected to meet her soulmate, and not in a place like the Cadet Corps. Though, she couldn't deny that she felt attracted to you, not just emotionally, but almost spiritually, like something unknown tethered the two of you together.

Slowly, she brought you into a more gentle embrace, slinking down in your lap and wrapping her arms around your neck, leaning into the crook of your shoulder. You instantly wrapped your arms around her in return, and you swore you had never felt more at home than in this moment.

Her hand moved to your back, skimming it back and forth over the spot where your tattoo laid—she knew it was there, even if she couldn't see it.

The two of you stayed there in comfortable silence for what felt like eternity, being so close to someone as important as a soulmate brought immeasurable relief and tranquility to the both of you. The dull throbbing in your head died down at the sensation of the warm, comfortable woman tucked in your arms.

But, the moment was cut off by the distant shouting and clamoring of soldiers, signifying their return from the race.

"We should get up." You muttered, not wanting your intimate moment ruined by sudden company.

Mikasa sighed, reluctantly shuffling out of your lap and onto her feet. "What about Shadis?" She inquired, sliding her shirt back over her head.

"I'll just say it's about the head wound, and that you're staying behind to help me." You smile, dusting more of the dried dirt off your uniform. "He'll understand."

"I doubt that." She sighed bluntly, stretching her stiff limbs over her head. "But still, I wouldn't mind spending a little time off with you." She admitted, grabbing the cloth of her scarf and covering her mouth in an attempt to mask her flushed face.

"Good." You push through the door to the medical office, making your way to your dorm room—which, by coincidence, you shared with Mikasa.

You plopped down on the cozy linen sheets, stretching your body out before yawning, patting the space next to you and inviting Mikasa over. She took the offer silently, placing herself on the mattress, sitting up and facing the wall away from you.

"You know, when I said to watch over me, that was only an excuse for Shadis." You muttered, wrapping your arms around her waist in an attempt to pull her down to cuddle. "I just wanted to snuggle a little bit."

She sighed. Not moving from her position, upright and facing the wall. "I know, I know soulmates should do romantic things like this, I'm just... very new to this." She muttered, embarrassed.

"That's fine." You yawn, arms retreating from her waist as you bury your face in a pillow, sleep already taking hold. "We have plenty of time."

She nodded wordlessly, even you were unable to see—sleep had already taken hold of you.

"That's okay," She turned around, stroking your hair and brushing a few loose strands away from your face. "I think I love you already."

Bleh, I'll proofread this in the morning.

Edit: I did not proofread this in the morning.

[hwari-ssi]

Floraison | 4

genre: fantasy/soulmate au

warnings: it kinda gets angsty, smut (in the future)

word count: 3.6k

pairings: ot7 x reader

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

A/N: omg omg aaaaa sorry for taking so long!! honestly, it wasn’t easy writing this one because of my insomnia. i just wrote whatever came to mind, so i hope you’ll understand (you can roast me) D: oh, and there’s a surprise at the end!! lol i hope y’all won’t hate it

Jeongguk really did end up sleeping beside you after all. He couldn't bear the thought of leaving you alone. He held your small frame against his lean body, your quiet breaths subtly tickling his neck like a feather.

He'd been awake for some time now, but didn't want to go outside yet. Not when you were fluffy and warm, all curled up tightly next to him. He glanced at your sleeping face, lips parted slightly and breathing softly.

It made a lot of sense why the three of them already felt so attached to you. How your senses calmed within seconds when Namjoon touched the crown of your head earlier. You were their mate. Once a soul finds their other half, it was impossible not to be away from them.

That's what he felt for the others, and now, you. He was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of the bedroom door creaking slowly, a disheveled Taehyung peering in, still very much half asleep.

"Is our princess here?" The older asked, rubbing at his eyes which were red from fatigue. Jeongguk motioned for him to join in, wanting to stay until they had to leave the room for breakfast. The former ambled over to the bed, not hesitating to reach over and wrap his arms around you. Your scent hit him like a ton of bricks. Celestial and flowery—such a pleasant aroma.

The sudden movements brought you out of sleep, and you opened your eyes to see another stranger. Shaggy brown hair, strong eyebrows, sharp jaw, and what an adorable boxy smile he has.

"Hello, darling." His husky voice made you shiver, and the action wasn't missed by the two. Your cheeks flushed with pink, reddening even more when Taehyung brought his face closer. He held eye contact, but you couldn't do it so you turned to the other side, where Jeongguk happily opened his arms for you, caging you in when you scooted forward.

"Gguk?" His heart does a little flip at the nickname you gave him and smiles at the sight of the blush adorning your cheeks, realizing albeit too late at how you were practically attached to his hip. Had anyone else been that close, you would have felt your space was being invaded, but in this case, the faint smell of his cologne and his close proximity increased your pulse rate. Your arms were still around the boy, clinging to him like a koala, and you awkwardly clear your throat.

"Hey, no fair," Taehyung pressed his face into your hair and smiled when he heard you giggling. The three of you settled into a comfortable silence, Tae's breathing was fanning over neck, while the other's fingers danced on the small of your back, massaging the skin every now and then.

Their actions combined turned you putty in their grasp. You nuzzled your face into Jeongguk's neck, almost purring while you gave him the attention he'd been wanting to get from you all morning.

The men had smiles plastered on their faces as you continued to lavish his neck with affection. You may not know exactly what you were doing, but they did, and it made their hearts soar in happiness. You were claiming them, as your soulmates, and you were unaware of that. The feeling it gave brought you peace. At that moment, you understood each other perfectly. This is what you've always longed for. Tranquility. The stirrings of revolutionary ardour. A sort of freedom, if you will.

A gentle knock from the doorway brought the three of you from your daze."Breakfast is ready," Jin smiles at you lovingly. Taehyung almost wanted to protest, but he wouldn't want to keep you from eating. and so he forced himself up, pulled you with him and laughed at Jeongguk who was trying to fix his unkempt state.

The elder came over and took your hand, leading you out the room and down the stairs, into the dining hall. Everyone was already gathered around the table that was filled with scrumptious-looking food.

That's when the others took notice of your presence. You were indeed beautiful, just like how Jeongguk described you. Your gray eyes were what stood out to them the most. A tell-tale sign that you are one of the stars from above. Deep as the ocean, deep enough to fall in and drown, the windows to your soul were. With a simple glance, she could calm a torrid sea of heart ache. Longingly they looked at her, with the warmth of a hearth during Winter's Eve, deep in the forest wherein lovers would share the fire. Perfectly wonderful and endlessly enticing them, every blink a kiss to their soul. They almost melted at the sight.

"Jimin and Hoseok went a little overboard this time," Jin says with a chuckle. He led you to an empty chair that was next to Yoongi. He sent you a smirk, picking at your messy ponytail. "Fucking cute." You smiled shyly as he laughed softly at your reaction. Jimin took the seat alongside you and started placing food on your plate. You thanked him, and he gave you a pat on the head in response.

"These taste amazing," you said, as you happily munched on your baked cinnamon donuts. The cooking duo didn't know they were holding their breaths until they heard your affirmation.  They tried not to be obvious with their staring, but both of them wanted to see how you would react to their cuisine, making a mental note to make these again for you whenever.

You took a slug of your drink, all the while glancing at the sea of new people. To your right was Yoongi, features akin to origami. Sharp edges and angles. Cute button nose, and lips carved like a doll's. For an adorable face, he has such an intimidating glare. You turned to Jimin next, whose jawline was pronounced, lips full and pillowy, and has straight eyebrows. He regarded you with warmness, like a mother would tend to their child. and Lastly, Hoseok—the boy was sunshine personified. The brightness in his eyes reminded you of home. A heart-shaped mouth with a beauty mark placed just between the cupid's bow and vermillion border. He also has dimples like Namjoon's.

"So, darling, how did you meet the youngest of our bunch?" Taehyung asks, rousing you from your reverie. You were now aware that all of them were staring at you curiously, and it made you want to bury yourself inside a hole. You tried not to let the memories resurface, but his face flashed in your mind, making you drop your utensils. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Thank you for the hospitality, it was well received, but I should go."

"Sweet one—"

"No!" Your sudden outburst surprised them. "I should leave.. I don't want to cause you any trouble.." the stare shared between everyone went unnoticed by you. Jin carefully made his way towards your chair and knelt so he was eye-level with you. Your head was pointing on the floor, eyes downcast, and he took that as a sign you were feeling dejected. He tilted your chin up, only to see tears gathering in your eyes, making Tae feel bad.

"It's okay, little one. We won't hurt you. You can be honest with us." He spoke, sincerity filling your ears. You tried to tell if he was lying, but the way he was looking at you told you otherwise. Yoongi's hand smoothed your hair down, the motion quickly lulling you into a sense of security. You gathered your courage and responded in a meek voice, "I had a previous master, and it took me so long to realize he was treating me badly.."

The word master made bile rise in each of the men's throats. They can only imagine what horrors you went through. Stars, like you, are a kind of rare breed that is gifted by the star goddess. You harness multiple powers, one of which being pyrokinesis, the ability to command and emit fire at will. However, your inability to get a handle on your newfound gifts inevitably results in tragedy. When you turned a certain age, you emitted a burst of fire so immense that it destroyed a city block, killing your entire family and everyone else in the vicinity, having no other choice but to leave your home planet, Stellaris. That's when you turned to Asteria, asking the goddess for a new life and change of scenery. She was hesitant to send you somewhere far away, so she settled for earth, where your soulmates were. Except, you ended up in the wrong hands.

A hybrid smuggler, perhaps? breeds like you cost more than an arm and a leg. Maybe the power you possessed is what drew him in. He manipulated you, used you to fight against dangerous paranormal phenomena. You knew you had to get away—you weren't even supposed to meet him. The bastard took you against your will, threatening to send you back if you didn't listen. You lost the battle because of your naivety.

"Does anyone want dessert?" Jeongguk spoke up, trying to keep everyone's mood from lowering as they learned about your life history. "We won't give you back to him, Y/N," The elder states, eyes boring into yours with determination. You wanted to speak, but the words got caught in your throat. "You needn't worry, lovely. We will do no such thing." Jimin reached for your hand and held it to his chest. Still unable to find your voice, you settled with a small nod, making the boys smile from ear to ear.

"Here," Yoongi nudges your shoulder in a gentle manner as he positioned his fork close to your mouth. It had a piece of steak and nicely cut asparagus on it. "You need protein in order to stay strong, our pretty kitten." he says, almost stuttering as the pet name escapes his tongue without realizing it, it's glossed over though. 

You blushed, eyes turning into half-moons as your lips curved upward. "Thank you, yoonie." He'd get so soft after hearing you call him with a sweet endearment. Yoongi's gummy smile was showing, and you couldn't help the butterflies flittering inside your tummy after seeing him smile adorably. The man was usually pretty good at hiding his feelings but, somehow, he was horrible at doing that right now because you were currently in his radar.

"Alright. Since we're finished with dinner, why don't we clear the table?" Jin declared, while everyone lifted themselves from their seats. Taehyung piled most of the dirty dishes, placing them in the sink. You helped collect the cups and followed suit, watching Hoseok as he turned the faucet on with a sponge in hand. "Can I help?" You tugged on his sweater, your shy demeanor made him want to coo at you.

"Of course, little one. You can dry the dishes and Jeonggukie will put them away," The younger's ears perked at the mention of his name, reaching for a towel that was hanging on one of the kitchen cabinets and handed it you, caressing your cheek with his free hand in the process. The others observed the scene, tenderness painting their expressions. It seemed more evident that you fit in perfectly with every passing moment. You belonged here, with them.

"I'll be in my office. Got some digging to do," The elder mouthed at Yoongi, almost having trouble catching the words because he was deep in thought. Chances are, that son-of-a-bastard owner must be looking for you, but there was no way in hell they were going to give you back to him. Not if you didn't want to go willingly. The idea saddened him, because seeing how the younger ones had already taken such a liking to you, it made him feel protective.

"Would you like to watch a movie with us, Y/N-ie?" Jimin came up behind you and rested his chin on your shoulder as you dried the last bowl. Jeongguk takes the plate from your hands and presses a kiss to your temple.

"A movie? I've only ever seen one film though.." Hoseok beckons you over to him and holds out his hand. You let him guide you through the hallways, leading you back up the stairs and into a bathroom. Your eyes widened as you noticed it was huge and prettily decorated, you dare say it might even be bigger than your master's headquarters. He disappears for a hot minute to get something before stepping in, holding a pair of new sleepwear for you to use. You took the soft material from him, and smiled in thanks.

You eye at his arms, one pulling a rectangular, sheer-white cloth made of linen out of a cabinet, the other, a crystal bottle. he leans over the bathtub, turning the tap on and let water fill the tub before pouring the liquid. The sweet smell invaded your senses, automatically putting you in a good mood.

"You're all set. I put the clothes on the counter. We'll be waiting—" He turned his back to you, wanting to leave you to yourself but you cut him off when a whine left your lips. Immediately, he was by your side again, asking you what he possibly did wrong.

"Can't you stay, hobi? I don't want to be left alone.." You felt safe with him. His heart swells with pride. Although the idea of being with you in the same room, having nothing to cover your body made his heart race and face flush. He mentally slapped himself for thinking such vulgar thoughts. Now is not the time, you idiot, the voice in his head kept him in check, and he was grateful.

"I can help you wash your hair," He offered, high-fiving himself for not stuttering. "I'll wait outside. Just call for me, princess. okay?" You hummed in reply. You rid yourself of your dress, letting the fabric pool around your feet and stepped into the bathtub, submerging your body in the water and letting the warmth seep through your aching muscles, releasing all the tension.

You scrubbed at every part, making sure to remove the hidden grime found on your skin. Soon enough, your entire body was clean. Your natural glow was back. You reminded yourself to thank him later for making the water all sudsy because bubbles are always fun to play with."Hobi, I'm ready!" You folded your knees up to your chest just in time as Hoseok walks inside, not forgetting to shut the door behind him.

He sat at the edge of the tub, ready to lather your hair with shampoo when he sees the lines scattered across your back. The atmosphere turned gray. He stopped on his tracks. His gaze darkened. Of course he had to mask it—he didn't want to make you feel sad again, so he takes a deep breath, and decides to inform the others about this matter later. Your well-being was his first priority at present.

Silence fills the room as he massages the product on your beautiful locks. You didn't forget to thank him, mumbling as you relaxed at his touch. He looked at your small form sorrowfully, kept himself from asking for fear of you possibly running away. He only hopes that the time you'll open up to them will come in the twinkling of an eye.

"Everything's going to be fine now, sweetheart. We won't bring you back,"  you carefully maneuvered your body to his front, the water swishing around the tub at your movement. Your collarbones were showing, complexion looking a bit smooth, reminding him of rose-tinged ivory. You're looking better now, the pink in your cheeks much more visible compared to earlier.

"I can stay?" You bit your lower lip, shoulders shrinking. You wanted to stay here forever, but there was a strong likelihood they would change their minds. Because who would want someone broken? Someone like you?

"We all want you to stay, Y/N. Even if it means forever." Hoseok promises, running his forefinger along your jawline, tilting your head up so you were gazing into his dark orbs, slowly pulling you in like a vortex. "There's seven of us, baby doll. No matter what happens, We'll keep you safe." Why were these people so willing to help? It made you want to breakdown and cry, but you willed yourself not to."Okay, hobi." He smiled, kissing your forehead sweetly.

He pulled himself from the bathtub, the smile never leaving his face as he moved out of the room. You smiled in return as he shut the door, stretching your body in the water once more and stood, reaching for the towel, wrapping it around yourself. After getting dressed in the clothes your hobi got for you, you folded the dress and bundled it up in your arms before leaving the bathroom.

"I'll put those in the wash," Jin says as he ran into you, taking the clothes and continued his walk down the hall. You watch him disappear into another room further ahead and made your way to the living room. Upon entering, you found most of them gathered on the couch or seated on the floor, blankets covering their lower bodies.

You were glued to your spot, not quite sure where to sit. A few seconds later, The elder reappears and quietly takes your hand in his, leading you to an empty space beside Jeongguk and sat on the couch, ushering you to sit on the floor right in front of him, solving your little dilemma. You leaned back against his legs and he starts running his hands through your hair, smoothing out any tangled strands. To say you were content would be an understatement; you felt so at home. so peaceful. so cared for.

"Everyone ready?" Taehyung asks, a chorus of agreements resonating throughout the room. The boys settled into comfortable positions, while Jin's hands stayed on your locks, his nails subtly scratching your scalp. An hour later, the credits were finally rolling. Jin looked over to see both you and Jeongguk peacefully snoring, head resting on his shoulder as your quiet breaths lulled him into a deep slumber.

"We should move them, Jin. They'll wake with sore necks if we leave them be," Namjoon says, rising from his seat, gesturing at the others to clean up before lifting you from the ground. He makes his way into their shared bedroom, where four of the elders in the group sleep. He situates you on Yoongi's bed, placing an extra pillow under your head so you won't be uncomfortable whilst in dreamland.

"Sleep well, princess. You are safe here, with us." He caresses your cheek affectionately. "If he does find you, we won't let him take you."

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ

"He what?" Yoongi slams his fists on the table, anger flashing over his features. He couldn't understand. He did not want to understand either. How heartless would a human have to be to actually inflict injuries upon such precious beings like you? Just across from him was where Namjoon and Jin were seated, the former tonguing at his cheek as he tried to control his raging emotions. He was fuming. On the other hand, Jin and the rest remained dead silent. The atmosphere thickens with visible tension, each of the men taken aback by the information as Hoseok relayed it.

"Shouldn't we report this to the peacemakers?" Jeongguk turns to his elders, eyes pleading for justice. But the younger knew they possibly couldn't let this matter fall into their hands. The uproar it would cause would surely put different worlds to engage in a war. Everyone knew not to mess with Asteria's children. Because to hurt them, would mean facing one's immediate death.

"We can't, young one." Jin reaches for the younger's hand, looking a little crestfallen. "Besides, I heard the bastard got beaten to a pulp by his own shields because they simply couldn't let him step over them anymore," The elder says bitterly.

"Serves that fucker right," Yoongi scoffs, smirking triumphantly. The man must be trying to escape from the consequences of his actions, he thinks to himself, leaning back against his chair, one leg crossing over the other. At least you can live a peaceful life now, without having to worry about anything or anyone else but yourself. That's what mattered to them the most.  

The soft padding of your feet down the stairs alerted the men that you have risen, your soft sobs reaching their ears as you were getting nearer. Namjoon didn't hesitate to meet you halfway, scooping you up into his arms and hugged you for the longest time. “Did you have a bad dream, sweetheart?” He wipes your tears away with his thumb, all the while placing lots of kisses on your forehead, nose, and temples.

He walks back to the dining room, refusing to place you back down on the floor, your face buried into his neck because you were too shy to face the others. Tears continue to fall from your eyes. You’re scared, the nightmares made you terrified. “Hey, it’s okay, baby girl,” Yoongi saunters over to your side and holds your face, brushing the tears on your cheeks and gives you another set of kisses on your eyelids, the rest joining in to surround you with worried looks. “It’s okay. We’re right here, princess. You’re alright. You have us. You're okay."

You cried on Namjoon's chest, sobs turning into sniffles after a period of time. You eventually fell back asleep, with them giving you all of their soft reassurances, and Namjoon's hand stroking your hair gently. You looked so vulnerable and so lovely that it made him want to shun you from the world. Oh, what a dangerous world earth was.

But the thing is, you didn’t know you were lucky to have seven, powerful gods disguised as humans, as your soulmates.

[curly-bangtan]

Heatwave Drabble #8: contaminated

[Heatwave // Godless // Heatwave Drabbles] <- read first!

Pairing: Taehyung x reader

Summary: We’re always gonna be contaminated.

Genre: drabble, angst, fwb au, roommate au, f2l

Warnings: more feels!

Word count: 4.1k

A/N: Title named after the song Contaminated by BANKS. (Should give it a listen after reading!) Unedited!!!

.

“So what you’re telling me is, you fucked your roommate slash best friend who thought you were seducing him in the middle of a heatwave, and now, 9 months into sleeping together, you’re in love with him. Not only sleeping with, but also doing domestic coupley things like cooking together and cuddling during Netflix, but you guys not once made it official, or even exclusive because you both have commitment issues. And you thought he loved you too, so you decided to test him by saying you’re going on a date with someone to see his reaction, only for that to backfire right in your face because he slept with someone out of anger.”

You blink. “Man, why d’you have to put it like that?”

“Put it like what? I just summarised everything you told me concisely.” He laughs and pulls you in closer. You can’t help but note how different he smells, not bad, but just not what you’re used to. “So in conclusion, you’re both idiots and now you’re heartbroken.”

“I- I’m not heartbroken, I wouldn’t go that far. I’m just… a bit bummed out.” You avoid his gaze, squirming in his arms because the heat under the covers is starting to get to you.

“Wow, one night with you and I already know how stubborn and headstrong you are. You literally teared up a minute ago when you were talking about him. This is your problem: even now, you’re not willing to admit your true feelings. How well has that worked for you so far?” He shakes his head in dismay, his investment in your predicament surprisingly genuine.

This is a weird as fuck situation you’ve gotten yourself in. Out of desperation for relief from your, okay fine, heartbreak, you went out last night and came home with a guy. Taehyung had also gone out, and judging by the fact that it’s now the morning after and he still has yet to return, you can guess the direction in which his night went. It stings, but now you’re a hypocrite. This guy who you don’t even know the name of, Club Guy, has turned out to be more than just a fuck though. He knew he was the rebound for someone else, and he was more than glad to help. But one thing led to another, and the next thing you know, after your third round, you are pouring your heart out to this guy - this random, incredibly attractive, amazing at giving head, guy from the club.

It would be awfully strange, except he is unusually good at comforting people. You’re might consider keeping this one as a friend.

“Dude, I know it’s not my forte. I’m not good at expressing my emotions, okay?” You revel in the softness of his fingertips as he feathers your back. The sun is peeking through your curtains; you’re counting down the minutes until Taehyung returns, but at least speaking to Club guy is taking your mind off the fact that he was with someone else last night. “Yes, I’m heartbroken. I… I fucking love him. I know it was my fault for trying to get a reaction from him, but I just wanted him to say it, you know? Say that he loves me out in the open and that he wants me to… I don’t know, be his girlfriend. Girlfriend? Is that the right word? It sounds so weird. I don’t fucking know.”

Club Guy rolls his eyes, sighing at your ineptitude to grasp the simple concept of love. “Yes, girlfriend. God, you’re so annoyingly cute.” He smiles a smile at you that others would surely swoon for, and though your mind is too preoccupied with the boxy grin of someone else, you appreciate the warmth in his eyes. “Look, was it the night before the last that this all went down?”

“Yes.” Too fresh, too soon for you to be sleeping with someone else, you know. But you needed it so badly, you just needed to take your mind off him.

“What about the morning after? Surely you’ve seen each other since. From how you described him, I feel like there’s no way he could bring someone home knowing that you’re in the room next door.”

The memory sears.

You distinctly remember hearing their awkward morning-after conversation out in the dining room. After a long debate of whether to go out and reveal yourself to them or not, you decided that, fuck it, you’d already cried yourself to sleep last night because of this stupid son of a bitch, there is no reason for you to inconvenience yourself just to save Taehyung an even more awkward encounter. And so you stormed out of your room, eyes probably still a bit puffy and red, pretended you can’t see them and proceeded to make yourself a smoothie.

Yes, a homemade smoothie. You made sure to turn the setting of the blender all the way up so it was as loud and noisy as possible. You’re petty like that.

Especially because she’s using your mug.

Taehyung’s look of surprise when he saw you come out of your room did not give you even a fraction of satisfaction. Just a sad pang in your heart.

“I- Oh. I didn’t know you were home.” There was shame in his voice, and you hated every twist of your heart that it elicited.

You ignored him, not even a second of eye contact, poured that mango and berry smoothie and padded back into your room.

You had cried into your smoothie because his hair was messy like it usually was in the morning, voice still a deep rasp and eyes not fully open yet. And you had wanted to hug him so badly.

“It was awkward. I was a cold bitch and ignored him when I interrupted their breakfast. But no, he didn’t know, he was shocked to see me home.” You mutter, burying your face into your pillow to try to forget yesterday morning.

You could have said something, at least shown how hurt you were so he would apologise. Because you know he would apologise. But of course, you had a prideful image to uphold. Classic classic.

“Then…” Club Guy runs his fingers through your hair, twirling at the ends. “Then I feel like it’s really not too late. I’ll be out of here soon, and when he comes back, just sit him down and speak to him calmly. Calmly being the key word here. Explain to him that you weren’t actually remotely interested in the guy you went on a date with, and just wanted to prompt him to make you his. Tell him that you made a mistake and you’re hurt by what he did, but you can look past it because you were both in the wrong. Or maybe just tell him that you love him and don’t want to be with anyone else. It’s your choice whether you tell him about you and me, but what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him is all I’m saying.”

You contemplate his words. It sounds easy as hell when he says it like that, but you know when the moment comes, you will freeze up, panic, and muck it up somehow. It’s just a ‘I’m sorry’ and three simple words. Yet it feels like the most difficult thing you’re going to do.

“But what if he doesn’t understand. What if he doesn’t even like me like that, I feel like I could be grossly misinterpreting things.” You’ve pondered about this possibility since two nights ago. Afterall, how could he just go out and sleep with someone like that right after your fight if you mean so much to him? But then again, look at you now - likewise in bed with someone, albeit mostly for therapeutic reasons.

Club Guy shakes his head looking at you, almost in pity at how you could possibly still not get it. Smirk playing at his lips that remind you so much of Taehyung’s smugness. Fuck, it hasn’t been two days and you already miss him so much that your bones ache.

“Look, your best friend is head over heels in love with you and you’re seriously blind for not being able to see this earlier. Didn’t you say he would stay up all night with you during exam season to make you coffee and massage your shoulders? There’s no question about it, the guy is more whipped than whipped cream.”

Club Guy sits up, the covers falling off his front to reveal his toned sparsely tattooed body. You watch him wordlessly get dressed, the storm that is your mind whirling you into pieces. He’s right. He’s so right, and you hate it. The solution is honestly so simple. You and Taehyung are like two dots on a blank page. Instead of a mere straight line to connect the dots, you drew spirals around each other, closer and closer but never touching.

Should you tell him about Club Guy? You feel like you should. Though he is right, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. But you don’t want any more games, anymore dishonesty. Straight line.

“Uh, thank you for talking this out with me, I appreciate it. I’ve had no one to talk to about this because none of my friends know about him and I, and it’s kind of too late for me to drop the bomb now.” The awkwardness begins to trickle in, on your part at least. Club Guy just smiles that smile at you, rather pleased with himself.

“I should have charged you for that.” He shimmies into his skin tight black jeans, eyes crescent in amusement.

“What, the sex or the therapy session?” You joke. It’s sad because he has such potential to be a great fuck buddy, and you 9 months ago would not have hesitated to make him your next booty call. But the truth is, even as you were kissing, fucking someone else, you were imagining Taehyung the whole time.

If love is a sickness, you’re plagued on your deathbed.

Club Guy laughs. “If it doesn’t work out, call me I guess. But I’m rooting for the two of you idiots. You better not fuck this up.” When he slides into his shoes, you realise how much you dread him leaving. Firstly, because finally speaking to someone about all your pent up emotions for Taehyung feels like a weight lifted off your chest. Secondly, because you really don’t want to be left alone right now. You don’t want to agonise over every second that Taehyung isn’t home yet.

Lethargically, you stretch over the covers and roll out of bed, your limbs feeling especially heavy with the looming pressure of what you have to say to Taehyung. “I’ll… walk you out.”

The next series of events happens in shutters.

Mid yawn, as you’re scuttling down the hallway after Club Guy to see him out, the front door swings open. Taehyung walks in in yesterday’s clothes, wearing a miserable expression to begin with. But when his eyes glance up and locks on your male company, his face…

Shatters.

You have never seen Taehyung’s temper explode before. You’ve witnessed his grumpy tantrums, his quiet sulking, but this - a detonation of pure rage, catalysed by shock - runs your blood ice cold.

‘What the fuck?’ His voice is deadly low, eyes flying between the two of you. And instantly, you’re filled with a reciprocating anger. He can’t possibly go off on you right now, he can’t have the fucking nerve. Not when you hadn’t said a word about him and that girl yesterday.

“Holy shit…” From the corner of your eye, Club Guy turns a ghastly sheet of white.

It doesn’t dawn on you until he spits his name out like poison. ‘Park Jimin, what the fuck?’

And sense exits your brain.

You can’t move a muscle if you wanted to, nor utter a sound. You feel like flotsam, swept away by a roaring wave. This can’t be happening. This can’t be real. Of all people, all people, you slept with Park Jimin. As in Taehyung’s ex-best friend who his girlfriend had cheated on him with, Park Jimin.

“Oh my fucking god. Kim Taehyung…” To his credit, Jimin can at least speak, unlike you. Gone was the lovely, charming guy talking you through your crisis. He brushes his hair back in disbelief. “I- What the fuck… I swear I didn’t know she’s your girl.” You try not to let the words ‘your girl’ sink in too much. Because you were his, even if you weren’t.

“I swear to fucking god. I give you 10 seconds to leave my house before I kill you.” Not only can you not believe your poor luck of managing to bring home Jimin of all people from a random bar, you also cannot believe the fury seething from Taehyung, someone who you no longer recognise.

Jimin does not need to be told twice; he spares you one last glance before dashing out.

After the door slams, there’s just silence. Your eyes fixed on Taehyung’s, mind trying to comprehend how royally you’ve fucked up once again. You’re desperately trying to convince yourself that it isn’t your fault, you didn’t know. But the hurt trickling through Taehyung’s angry facade inoculates you with enough guilt to make you nauseous.

“Seriously?” Taehyung is trembling, from rage or heartache you don’t know. “You fucked Jimin?”

“I… I had no idea, I swear, Taehyung.” You want to move towards him but your feet stay planted on the ground. Your own throat is trembling, definitely out of heartache. You can’t imagine the pain tearing through him right now.

Another moment of an agonising silence. Every second you’re just standing there flabbergasted is a fresh stab to your chest. How did you two get to this place?

“So you fucked him? Yes or no?” When his voice cracks, it takes everything in you to keep the tears from springing.

You swallow. “Yes.”

Taehyung shuts his eyes, and it feels like he’s shutting the chapter of his life that is you. The end is looming, you can feel it. You don’t see how you two could possibly recover from this. How could he forgive you?

“Did it not cross your mind that that Jimin you were fucking could be the Jimin who stole my ex-girlfriend? Like the Jimin that led me to move in with you in the first place? Did I seriously not cross your mind even once?” His words are a slap after slap, no, even more physical than a slap.

Did he not cross your mind, he has the audacity to ask. He was the only thing on your mind, that idiot.

“I didn’t know his name, Taehyung.” You try to suppress the surge of injustice you feel. Of course you thought about him. How could he even ask something like that, as if you’ve done this out of malice.

“Oh, right.” He scoffs, shoulders dropping. “I forgot, you fuck guys without learning their names.”

And just like that, the line between sadness and anger is breached.

“Excuse me? What did you just say to me?”

“Do you want me to repeat it?”

Somehow, anger hurts more than the guilt you had felt. It manifests as something grotesque festering away in your chest, all the bitterness, the tears, the heartbreak, all condensed into this ugly emotion.

“Taehyung, you went and fucked someone first while I was in the room next door.” His tightly drawn brows soften a little. “I heard everything, every creak of the bed, every moan, every fucking thing. You have no idea how much that killed me, not a single fucking idea.” You feel your face crumpling, eyes stinging, and you hate falling apart like this in front of him, but there’s nothing holding your broken pieces together anymore. “I didn’t say a single word about it, shit, I even let that bitch use my mug while I was dying inside. And now you have the nerve to pin this on me and make me feel like a worthless piece of shit.”

You watch it dawn on him, the distraught state of your mind. And you want it to feel like a competition, like ha, you hurt me way more. But it isn’t. There is no winner. There’s just you two, gradually losing each other.

“I was drunk…” He croaks. “And I didn’t know you were home, I thought you went home with Junho.”

“You really think that little of me. Then you don’t know me at all if you think I would’ve done that. But look at yourself, you didn’t text me once that night, just went straight out to the club and fucked some girl. And what about last night? You didn’t come home either.” You hiss, pitch raising.

“I didn’t sleep with her last night. I couldn’t even kiss her for more than a minute on her bed because it felt so wrong it made me fucking sick. I stayed on her couch and thought about you all fucking night. Happy?”

The truth rams into you no lighter than a train. You curse yourself. You curse him. This spectacular mess is unravelling so devastatingly that you want to scream. You can’t stomach the thought that you were fucking Jimin while he was thinking about you. Your situations mirrored one night after the next.

“And you say you were dying inside, but what about me? Hmm?” He flings his arms in exasperation. “Well what about me? How do you think I felt when I found out you were going on a date with some guy I’ve never heard you mention? How do you think I felt when you left me here all alone after that fight to wonder what the hell you were going to do with him that night? What else could I have done except get so drunk that I didn’t even remember my own name?” Seeing pain splatter across his beautiful features perhaps ruins you more than anything else. But your own pain is ringing.

“You didn’t even text me once! All you needed to do was tell me not to go, and I would have fucking stayed!” You cry, your throat dry and clogged.

“Did you want me to get on my fucking knees and beg? I didn’t have a right to tell you not to go. If you wanted to go, who am I to stop you?” He yells, a sheen now coating over his eyes, much like your own.

“GOD, I didn’t want to go, Taehyung! I don’t like him at all! Junho was nice but my mind wasn’t on him for even one second. I was coming back home to tell you I love you because I can’t stomach being with anyone else. But guess what? You were out pulling someone else because I clearly meant so little to you. Then I had to stay up all night listening to your fucking sex noises. I’m not the one who fucked up first here.”

Taehyung takes a breath to retort, but stops. Nothing but woundedness in his eyes. It’s clear that your words are embedding into him. The I was coming back home to tell you I love you. His expression falls, rapid breathing slows.

You’re looking at each other like you don’t recognise the other. Because it has never been like this between you two before. He has never felt more foreign, distant.

And when a wave of silence to calm you both has passed, he says quietly, “Why did you have to do that to me in the first place? I… I thought it was clear how I felt…”

The thundering tempest of your temper eases completely at the brokenness in his eyes. Acrid taste of regret in your mouth at the words that you hadn’t meant. Taehyung wasn’t the one who fucked up first, you shouldn’t have pulled that whole date thing. If you had just trusted him, and given him time, you would not be here right now.

But look at you two, fighting once again. Calmly, Jimin had said. And even that, you weren’t capable of. This is a childish game, the tossing of blame, and you’re drained. You don’t want to fight anymore. You don’t want to hurt. But you don’t know how to end this without ending everything.

“You really, really hurt me, Taehyung. But I was still willing to let it go. I was waiting for you to come back to tell you that… To tell you how I feel.” Your voice is soft now, diminished to just more than a whisper. You feel so extremely vulnerable, your frame creases inwards.

“You slept with Jimin…” Taehyung breathes, fists slowly unclenching. “Y/N, not just anyone, Jimin. I know I’d be a hypocrite if it were anyone else, but it’s him.”

“I didn’t know it was Jimin.”

“I didn’t know you were home after the date.”

For a good long second, you just stare at each other, chests heaving, throats raw, and you wonder if you are going to kiss and make up right this instant. Because for a moment, it feels like you could. It feels like you could forsake the past and just start anew.

But the window for that opportunity passes by as neither one of you takes a step forward.

You’re going in circles, you know.

“This isn’t going to work.”

Despite everything, this has been the hardest thing for you to say yet. And this time, you let the tears roll down. Your heart is screaming at you because it is on fire, but you persist through it because you know this has to stop and he doesn’t have the heart to say it so it has to be you.

And you just look long and hard at Taehyung, watch his eyes widen, shift, as he registers the finality of this outcome. It has been a wreckage. Only fragments of what once was a beautiful thing is left. You can’t keep hurting each other like this, and he finally knows it.

“What do you mean?” He asks, as if your heart hasn’t broken enough.

You want to fall onto your knees and sob.

“I mean, this needs to end. We’re doing and saying things we don’t mean and causing each other so much pain. If it was meant to work, it would have worked. I don’t want to keep doing this, Taehyung. Let’s stop this before we hurt more.”

Falling. Tears keep falling.

You’re breathing, yet choking on air.

Taehyung’s cheeks are stained, eyes rimmed with red. You have to clamp down on your lips to prevent yourself from crying out loud. When he closes his eyes, streams flow out, and you don’t think you’ve ever experienced greater pain. You want to hold him so badly, so badly. You want to tell him that you’re sorry for everything, and that you’ll always forgive him no matter what he’s done. But you can’t. Because you know things can never return to the way they were. Neither of you will be able to forget what the other’s done, it will live in the back of your minds, eating away at your insecurities.

Your love is tainted. Contaminated. And always will be now.

And even still, the selfish part of you wants him to say something, protest, fight for you. But you know he won’t. Because you know he knows it won’t be the same.

“So this is it? It’s over?” Cracks in his voice, cracks in your hearts.

It’s over.

But you can’t say it, so you just nod. All of this, just gone within days. Was your love so fragile to begin with? You were such a fool to believe that it would be enough.

“You can stay here, I’ll go.” You finally tear your eyes away from him, vision but a white glassy blur. You would rather him stay, it’s the least amount of respect you could offer to show how much he means to you.

And as you’re about to turn away, “You know that I love you, right?”

He says it, the first and last time you’ll hear those three words containing the meaning you’ve been seeking.

The tears don’t feel like they can stop.

“I know. I love you, Taehyung.”

And that has been your problem. You love each other too much but trust yourselves not enough.

.

A/N: Sorry SORRY!! Don’t hate me… ;----; one part left </3

.

22/02/19

© Copyright 2020

.

@taexxxiiaa @shookpreme @taetaeobsessed @tangledsparkles @nonexistentfucks @evilkookie @nbiased95 @taehyungmakesmeoof @itscalledgayhoney @tahaing @deliciouslydisturbed365 @expensive-bangtan-girl @jwlmnbt @herakimkim @dnyad @kaepjjang365 @gingerpeachtae @spring2787 @askingtheimportantthingshere @casualminiaturetimemachine @vasysauce @deadinsidebitch2412 @emiyooa @i-dont-even-know-fck @chimycthulhu @gixanjos @hisunshiine @xtaeyi @softjellyjimin @bluemooncnblue @malfeitofeitto @bangtanfancamp @keopitae @out-of-jams@camilaxpolanco @d-noona @haechanspudu @dawnispeace @vante-visuals@liquanzhe222 @bangtanloverrrrr @inner-monologue @bs14401 @seokjoontae @trviahope @comingjimin @jeonsshadow